


Commoners & Kings

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 1880s, Action/Adventure, Bisexuality, Drama, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Human Experimentation, London Underground, M/M, Mad Science, Multi, Origins, Oxford, Polyamory, Romance, Sexual Experimentation, Steampunk, Threesome - F/M/M, Trains, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of a special night, Helen Magnus reminisces about the origins of her extraordinary mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Such a Winter's Day

"Tread carefully over the pavements of London for you are treading on skin, a skein of stone that covers rivers and labyrinths, tunnels and chambers, streams and caverns, pipes and cables, springs and passages, crypts and sewers, creeping things that will never see the light of day." - Peter Ackroyd, _London Under_

*

It hardly ever snows in Old City. On the rare occasions the weather conditions are right, there's far too much happening to allow much snow to accumulate. It gathers in gutters, is pushed down into cracks, or turned to mud by countless passing tires and old boots rushing from one place to another. Heat rises from the networks of tunnels underneath the streets and turns the snow into shining puddles and then to hazardous ice.

The conditions are right for snow this evening, Helen believes. In any other town they might have woken in the morning to find a blanket on their lawn or effigies built by children standing on residential lawns. But not here, not in Old City. She stands at the window in her office and watches the sleet trace down the pain, the light from the single lamp on her desk is diffused by the multicolored panes in the stained glass.

Her office is dark, save for the lamp and her fire. It illuminates her workspace and her leisure space like stage settings. A shawl is wrapped around her shoulders; it's difficult to properly heat a building of such magnitude, and the Abnormals always come first. She doesn't mind the cold so long as she has a proper way to warm up.

She's considering a cup of tea before bed when she hears footsteps in the corridor. She doesn't have to turn to see who her guest is. Will and Kate are on a mission with Declan's team, investigating a nest of Abnormals in Northern Ireland. Henry and the Big Guy are helping a caecilian that had been in labor for going on three days. There is only one current resident of the Sanctuary who would feel comfortable intruding on her at this time of night.

She breathes deeply and smiles when she realizes he's brought tea. The aroma, however is... intriguing. "Oolong?" she guesses.

"Wuyi rock tea."

That makes her face him. Nikola Tesla looks much the same as he has for the past century, despite recently regaining his mortality. Tonight he's dressed in a waistcoat over a collarless sky blue shirt. He's balancing the tea service over one hand, the metallic surface just a few centimeters above the flesh of his palm. Once she's witnessed his feat, he carefully lowers the tray and places it on the table in front of her couch.

"You're not going to ask the occasion?"

"You remembered," Helen says, moving to join him on the couch.

Nikola looks at her and raises an eyebrow. "Something like that is difficult to forget. It was quite an evening. Shall I pour you a cup, or is the big hairy one lurking somewhere?" He twists to look at the door as if expecting the steward to be standing behind him.

"No, they're all gone."

"Ah. No one here but us chickens." He pours a cup for each of them and hands one to Helen. She thanks him with a bow of her head and sits down. Nikola remains standing for a moment before joining her, crossing his legs at the knee. He's turned so that he can face her, tucked against the arm of the divan. Helen sips her tea and closes her eyes.

"Dear God. That is sinful."

Nikola smiles and sips from his own cup. His eyes close and he takes a moment to savor the taste. "I will allow one small benefit to being closer to normal... I have missed the taste of the finer things in life."

Helen takes her tea in small sips, wanting to prolong her enjoyment. She touches the tip of her tongue to the middle of her upper lip, cleaning away the small drop of tea that has gathered there.

"I spoke to Heinrich, you know. When he was packing to leave, he let slip that you do this every year. You clear out the house as much as possible, you brood silently and alone in your tower. So it begs the question... why did you allow me to remain? You didn't even try to send me away."

Helen takes another sip of her tea. Nikola stares at her. The bottom of her cup dings against the plate.

"You were there. It's as simple as that, Nikola. Everyone else..." She looks into the fire, watching the flames as they form images on the floor and walls with light and shadow. In the flickering waves she sees faces. On this night in 1886, Helen Magnus and four of her friends reached the zenith of years of research. A small vial had been produced while Helen, perched like a queen in her throne, braced herself for the injection. She can see it clearly in the shadows, the darkness that encroaches on the light around their small oasis of calm. The sleet patters against the glass and sounds like tiny feet clicking over stone. She remembers James, sweet and kind James, urging her forward while he led them deeper into the darkness of London Below.

The nights that followed were sometimes so bleak, so dark, so...

She closes her eyes and, when she opens them again, focuses on Nikola.

"You were there," she says again, "and it's only right that you are here now."

She lifts her tea cup to him in a toast. "To the night we injected the Source blood," she says. "One hundred and twenty-four years and we're still here."

Nikola toasts her as well, their glasses ringing quietly in the still of the Sanctuary. Helen is grateful to him for the tea and the company. In years past she abhorred the idea of anyone sharing this moment with her. Even inviting James seemed somehow wrong, and not because she knew he had his own ceremony.

She leaves her forefinger curled around the handle of her glass and her gaze wanders. The pattern of the carpet seems to have come alive and dances with the glow of the fire. She hears the wood cracking and popping, and she hears the wind pushing more icy rain against the glass behind her. She hears James telling her to run, for God's sakes, and she hears a sharp intake of breath... passionate. She hears a hiss, a crash... she sees herself falling backward as a serpentine woman rises for an attack.

Nikola leans forward and refills his cup, and she nods when he offers to top hers off as well. Some memories aren't worth fighting off; they can only be faced head-on. She clings to her cup of tea and reluctantly allows herself to be pulled back into the past.


	2. Halcyon Days

1883.  
Bows of branches stretched toward each other from either side of the road, shaking their emerald leaves in the gentle breeze. Through the window of her landau, Helen felt as if she was passing under a ceremonial arch. She reclined against her seat and tried to steady her nerves. She took a moment to look down and adjust her uniform, tugging on the buttoned cuffs of her shirt. The buttons of her suit jacket were large and easily manipulated. A gold chain crossed her stomach, a gold pocketwatch hanging from it. She lifted it just to have something to do with her hands and checked the time before looking out the window again.

The horses came to a stop in front of a large brick building. Helen emerged from the back of the landau, paid the driver and touched the brim of her bowler as she stepped out onto the cobblestones. She took a deep breath and looked about, certain everyone would be as aware of the ridiculousness of the moment as she was.

Not one eye moved in her direction. Not a single soul seemed even to be aware of her presence, now that the driver had received his fare. She touched a crooked index finger to her upper lip as if stifling a cough and smoothed the ginger mustache against the spirit gum that held it in place. It itched, as did the two muttonchops on either side of her face. The collar of her shirt concealed her throat, and her bowler was pulled down to cover as much of her hair as possible.

Helen knew that she would draw attention simply by remaining where she was, so she began to walk. Everything seemed to be hued pink due to the pince-nez she wore to conceal the feminine shape of her eyes. She walked with confidence to the south entrance, dipping her chin in greeting to those who passed her in their academic dress. Men acted like they belonged wherever they were, so she wouldn't hesitate.

She was nearly to the stairs when she realized she was being followed. She used the dim reflections from the windows she passed to observe his pursuit. He didn't appear to be attempting to conceal himself, and his interest didn't strike her as prurient. She carried a walking stick, and she casually lifted the end and held it horizontally across her stomach as she ascended the stairs.

She reached the landing and turned, pivoting on her right foot and stopping on the bottom riser of the next flight. Helen pulled on the end of her walking stick with her right hand, gripping the other end tightly. When her pursuer turned to follow, she uncurled her fingers and the stick swung forward. The man was hit on his upper arm, sure to sting and leave a narrow purple bruise, and Helen used his distraction to overpower him. She shoved him against the wall, the tail of his gown sweeping around her legs as she pressed the stick against his chest.

"Who are you?" She kept her voice cast low, speaking in a husky growl that made her sound less feminine but not quite completely masculine.

"Well done," he said, smiling despite his position. He was clean-shaven, with dark hair wetted down beneath his mortarboard cap. He had high, elegant cheekbones and a regal Roman nose. "Did your father teach you that? To protect you from beaus who became too insistent after walking you home?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, sir?"

He leaned closer to her and spoke in a whisper. "I imply nothing, my dear. I merely wish to inform you of the errors in your costume. I assume the point is to deceive, and not to draw attention?" He held his hands up to show they were empty. "My only goal, I assure you, is to make your ruse less transparent."

She could tell he wasn't bluffing and glanced back to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. Other students were watching them, but no one stopped to investigate. Helen drew a deep breath and stepped back, waiting while the man straightened his white bow tie and stretched his neck as he ran his eyes down her body. She sensed no real lechery on his part; he seemed to be true to his word in gauging the quality of her disguise.

"Well?"

He smiled. "It will require a longer conversation than we can properly have here. Meet me at Christchurch Meadow in, shall we say an hour? That will give me enough time to gather a few items you shall need. In the meantime..." He paused as if searching for the properly tactful way to continue. "Try not to draw attention to yourself."

Helen worked her jaw and stepped back to allow him away from the wall. "And on whom shall I be waiting?"

"James Watson," he said, bowing slightly from the waist. "And what name shall I call you in a public arena?"

"Allen Magnus."

He touched the brim of his cap in greeting. "One hour, _Mr._ Magnus. Try not to be late."

Helen watched him move down the stairs, feeling irritated and curious at the incident. Surely he couldn't have uncovered the truth of her sex in the time since her arrival. Could he have been watching her during her past visits? She tried to recall if she'd seen him, even in passing, and could only swear that his face had seemed familiar. The idea of the cocky jackanapes stalking her was infuriating.

However, she still wished to hear what he had to say. If there was something she could do to make her male disguise more convincing, she needed to know. She straightened her waistcoat and made sure her bowler remained in place before she continued upstairs. An hour gave her enough time to do what she had initially set out for and still be on time for their meeting.

She moved through the hushed corridors of the vast library, humbled by the magnitude of knowledge that surrounded her. Today was not about research, as much as the leather-bound volumes seemed to call to her. She ignored their allure and sought for her quarry among the silent reading rooms and long tables. Finally she spotted him, his back to her as he bent over some large book.

Helen approached him confidently, one man to another, and cleared her throat. "Montague John Druitt?"

The barrister turned and rested his elbow on the back of his chair, gazing up at her with innocent curiosity. Feathers of dark hair framed his eyes, and his lips were twisted into a generally polite smile. Helen was uncertain why she was thrown by him and struggled to find the words she had practiced all evening.

"Mr. Druitt, I represent the interests of Gregory Magnus, and I wish to speak to you on a matter of great importance."

"Certainly. Please, have a seat. And I would prefer 'John,' if we are to converse civilly."

"Very well." She walked to the opposite side of the table and John followed her with his eyes. She was self-conscious thanks to James Watson's infuriating interception and resisted the urge to make sure her facial hair was still in place.

"Assuming this is a matter of law, most clients would find me at my offices at the Inner Temple rather than here."

"Meetings at your office would be a bit more public than Dr. Magnus has in mind. This matter requires a bit of secrecy on the part of all involved."

His eyebrows rose. "My interest is peaked, Mister... I don't believe you shared your name."

"The less said, the better, Mr. Druitt." She folded her hands in front of her, covering one with the other. "You seem to be a man of many interests. You practice law, you serve as an assistant headmaster, you play cricket... and you dabble in medicine."

For the first time he seemed confused. "How the devil do you know about that?"

Helen couldn't resist a smile. "Gregory Magnus has been aware of you for some time. Your interest in cryptids is of particular concern to us. You're currently in the process of gaining the rights to Mauro Reni's estate."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "And you are here to strong arm me into withdrawing?"

"Hardly. Dr. Magnus and I are very intrigued by what we believe his estate to hold. We merely request you share the wealth. You will be richly rewarded for your efforts."

"Richly rewarded, eh?" He hooked his finger over his chin and pretended to consider the offer. His eyes skimmed the window behind her and then snapped back into focus. "I make a healthy living, and I've no need of further wealth. But there is something you can offer to entice me... Whatever you're planning, it's certain to be more thrilling than a lecture or arguing a case. If I agree to allow Dr. Magnus access to what I procure, it will be as a partner."

"Your research has shown you would be a valuable asset. I'm certain Dr. Magnus would have no qualms about bringing you into the fold." She took his pen and wrote her address on the back of his pad. "This is the lab where I will be working tomorrow. Come by at noon... I'll check with you over the next few days concerning Mr. Reni's estate. Good luck, Mr. Druitt."

"Ah..."

"John." She touched the brim of her bowler and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting that I simply cannot put off. Good day, Mist... John."

When she left, something made her look back over her shoulder. John was watching her, so she quickly turned away. There had been something in his eyes when he regarded her, some amusement and perhaps... attraction? She touched her upper lip and smoothed down the fine golden hairs of her borrowed mustache. If two men had seen through her deception in the space of an hour then perhaps James Watson's lesson would be a greater boon than she thought.

She exchanged the cool of the library for the warmth of the sun, pausing for a moment before turning south. As she walked, she covertly checked the other students around her for signs they found her unusual. Men touched the brims of their hat to her in greeting, and she returned them gratefully. One young brunette girl smiled coquettishly and Helen blushed as she dipped her chin and hurried on.

By the time she reached Christchurch Meadow, her confidence in her costume had returned. A great many students were out, taking advantage of the few remaining summer days. Helen arrived a few minutes before James' deadline and surveyed the people for any signs of her enigmatic acquaintance. She strolled along a footpath until she found him.

James was sitting on the grass, feet crossed at the ankles. His left arm was bent, propping him up, and his fingers were laced over his stomach. He had removed his gown and was lying upon it, revealing his white dress shirt and gray slacks. He was the very picture of content, and Helen felt irritated to find him so calm. He turned when he caught her approach from the corner of his eye and he offered a smile.

"Do you know the history of this meadow?" It was apparently his manner of greeting her. "In 1318, John Deydras claimed the Devil, having taken the form of his cat, told him to impersonate King Edward. When he confessed the story was untrue, he was hanged. As was the cat. I've always found the hanging of the cat to be particularly vengeful. Although if it was the Devil, perhaps it was a prudent gesture."

"How long have you been watching me, Mr. Watson?"

"I've never seen you before today."

Helen folded her hands behind her back. "And yet you claim to have not only seen through my disguise, you know how to make it better. How?"

"Observation. It's quite elementary." He pushed himself up and brushed off his clothes before lifting his gown and folding it over his arm. "The first error is painfully obvious right now. You, my dear Mr. Magnus, are standing like a woman."

"I beg your pardon?" Helen looked down at herself.

"Your arms, your hips, the extension of your right leg." He faced her with his spine ramrod straight and his chin slightly forward. "It's a feminine posture and it's only the start of your problems."

Helen adjusted her posture, trying to avoid the appearance of fidgeting as she adjusted her waistcoat. James motioned for her to follow him and began walking. She fell into step beside him.

"You're tall for a woman, which is beneficial. You shall have to do something about your hands."

She resisted the urge to cover them and lend credence to his comment. "Why does it matter to you whether I succeed in my subterfuge?"

James shrugged. "What is your crime? Attempting to gain access to knowledge? I've never believed any one gender has a monopoly on education. The idea that a woman's place is in the home, raising the children, is quite outdated. The second class citizen is a myth that the time has come to debunk." He looked at her again. "But if this is the manner in which you must attend this fine institution, then you should do it properly."

She considered his reasoning and then decided it passed muster. "Very well, James. Teach me how to be a convincing man. I warn you, it won't be easy."

"I'm an excellent teacher. Are you a poor student?"

"Hardly." Helen scoffed and shook her head. "No, I simply fear I won't be able to successfully ape such an inferior gender."

James laughed and put his hand on Helen's shoulder. "Regardless, I feel we shall have a marvelous time together, Mr. Magnus."

"Helen," she corrected.

He looked at her and nodded in greeting. "Helen. Let us begin with gait." He stepped to one side, took a large step forward so that she could see him, and began to walk. Helen noted his stride and the way he held his spine and copied him as best she could.

It was in this manner that Helen Magnus and James Watson got to know one another, walking five feet apart while batting questions and answers back and forth.

#

That night Helen returned to the small flat she kept near Oxford and divested herself of the costume. Her hair, gathered and held with tortoise-shell pins, fell loose before she carefully bared her face. The mustache and mutton chops would likely come in handy at a later date. She removed her suit and hung it from the hook on the back of the closet door before drawing herself a bath. She applied lotion to her face to repair the damage done by the spirit gum and soaked until the water became cool and uncomfortable.

She had lied to John Druitt. Her father knew nothing of the Reni estate. He would not only disapprove of her pursuit, he would chide her choice of costume. As she dressed for bed, she examined her face. It felt like ages since she had seen herself. She touched the skin beside her eyes, looking for signs of wrinkles. Finding none, she took a seat and began to brush out her curls.

Helen hated her masculine outfit, but it was a necessary evil. A woman may have been allowed into Oxford on her own merits, but propriety would require her to have a chaperone if she ever intended to be alone with a man. The very act of being behind closed doors with a man, however briefly, would cause a stir. And starting on the morrow, she planned to spend much time alone with Mr. Druitt either alone in his office or in the laboratory where she was sketching out the bare bones of her plans.

And James Watson, she supposed, may become a regular facet in her life. He would be a very beneficial friend indeed. During their conversation he'd expressed interest in science and biology. Bringing him into the fold would be an excellent way to repay him for his help. So time alone with two men. Positively scandalous.

She finished her nightly ablutions and took herself to bed. She extinguished the lamps, swaddled herself in the blankets and thought of the Reni estate and the item she suspected she would find there. If her theories proved correct it could very well to be the catalyst for a world-changing experiment. It could alter everything her father had taught her about Abnormals. She prayed John Druitt was as talented as the rumors claimed him to be.

As she drifted off to sleep her barriers crumbled, and she found herself thinking of Mr. Druitt's smile and the way his eyes had reflected the sun coming through the window behind her.

#

Mauro Reni was a Catholic priest who broke away from the Church later in his life. When he left, he took a large number of holy relics with him into seclusion. He'd come to London and contacted Helen's father and claimed to have vital information concerning Abnormals that had been hidden by the Church for centuries. Gregory had sent Helen to verify what he was saying but, by the time she arrived, Reni was dead. Everything he owned was tied up with a complicated Last Will and Testament. Currently the will's legality was being contested in the courts by Montague John Druitt, who was standing up against the Holy See itself. Months passed with the case tied up in arcane procedures meant to weary the secular counsel. John refused to back down.

In the meantime, Helen continued her classes with James. He taught her how to smoke a cigarette, a vile habit that he insisted would lend veracity to her claims. He gave her men's gloves, padded so that her fingers and wrists looked thicker. She mimicked his every move, his posture and his swagger, and soon she met even his draconian standards.

At the end of one session, he adjusted her tie and brushed his hands over the shoulders of her suit jacket. She was wearing shoulder pads that added shape to her torso so she couldn't feel when he squeezed her.

"Amazing, Helen. I know the truth and even I would find myself looking twice."

"And yet I sense hesitation on your part." Her voice was their largest hurdle. If she tried to fake it, she sounded ridiculous. The trick was to let the timbre deepen naturally. She found herself clearing her throat much more often than polite society would allow. "Tell me, James. If I can stand your criticism over the way I bend my knee, surely nothing is out of bounds."

He shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. You would fool even the harshest judge." He moved his hands to her upper arms. "But why should you? I know the truth, and you mentioned you've told this Druitt fellow as well. It doesn't matter to us."

"It wouldn't be proper." She stepped out of his grip and turned to the mirror. "It would cause no end of problems. Our work would be forever stymied by well-meaning women who faint at the thought of a young woman debasing herself with something as frivolous as study." She touched two fingers to her mustache.

"We will find a way around the spinsters." He stepped behind her so they could see each other in the mirror, but he did not touch her again. "From what you've said, the work you'll be doing will be extraordinary."

"Anything we discover will have to remain secret."

"All the more reason to make the discoveries as yourself."

He removed her bowler and hung it off the corner of the mirror. Her hair remained up, pinned strategically in place to mimic an unusual but undeniably masculine style. She reached up to stop him as he peeled away her mustache, but her fingers stilled as the spirit gum pulled at her top lip. The skin underneath shined as he took off her muttonchops.

Helen's heart pounded as his fingers lightly, chastely brushed her skin. She was blushing but, if James noticed, he made no comment. He loosened her hair with the detachment of a chambermaid, letting loose curls that draped her throat

When her hair was down, he touched her shoulders again. "Put Allen Magnus to rest. For the time being, anyway."

"James," she whispered. She put one hand on top of his. He looked down, and she stared at his face in the mirror. A moment passed, and she tightened her fingers around his.

There was a sharp rap on the door and Helen pulled away from James as if pulled by gravity. The door swung open and John stepped inside. He was flush, beaming despite the sweat dotting his brow. Helen blinked wide eyes at him, uncertain what to make of his sudden and exuberant appearance. "John! What on earth...?"

John looked at James, catching his breath as he realized who it must be. "James! We meet at last. Am I interrupting?"

Helen blushed and looked at James, who averted his gaze. John seemed oblivious. "Not at all. Montague John Druitt, James Watson. It's high time the two of you were introduced."

John extended his hand and James took it. John smiled and dipped his head in greeting before he withdrew his hand. "I know how important these lessons are to you, Helen, but this news simply could not wait. It has been decided. Mauro Reni's estate is property of the Crown. It is my duty to catalogue the items he has left behind. There is a great amount of ephemera, and it could take a very long time." His smile widened as he extended a hand to her. "That is, unless my assistant would like to help?"

Helen felt lightheaded, giddy. She had no idea what to expect within the remnants of the exiled priest, but she knew in her gut that it needed to be discovered.

"When do we begin?"

John made a point of checking his pocketwatch. "Well, I see no reason to delay. Why not tonight? How soon can you be ready?"

Helen looked in the mirror. Her face was devoid of makeup, but the spirit gum had left residue. It would take similar efforts to replace her male guise as it would to prepare herself as a woman. She made the decision and smiled at John. "Give me a moment to change."

She shed her coat before she left the room, undoing the buttons as she walked down the hall with her curls trailing behind her. If the discovery was to be made tonight, she would make it in her own skin.

#

The home of the late Mauro Reni put Helen in mind of a cavern, a pit carved out of the surrounding earth and then neglected until the plants took it back over. Winter was edging out autumn, and a motley carpet of leaves covered the fenced-in property.

Helen walked the front path with John before her and James behind, her hair braided and running down her back like a broken leash. Though she agreed to make this trip in her own clothes, she had spared herself the confinement of a bustle or corset. She had no idea what they would find inside, but she was certain it would require a bit of heavy lifting.

John gained them access to the house and swept the door open before him. Helen followed him into the darkness like Alice being led into the rabbit hole in Mr. Carroll's book. They found themselves in a small room made even more claustrophobic by towers of papers and boxes wherever they looked. John lit a lantern and held it up so they could get a better view of the task ahead.

"Dear lord," Helen gasped. "We'll never find anything of use in this clutter."

"Nonsense." James closed the door behind himself and added the light of his own lantern to John's. "We can discount anything in this foyer as being of interest. Mr. Reni feared discovery. He would not conceal something in such an obvious place."

John paused in his examination of a journal. "Perhaps he read Mr. Poe's _The Purloined Letter_. Sometimes hiding something in plain sight is the surest way to avoid detection for the very same reason you've just said."

James tried to cover his embarrassment by nodding quickly. "Yes. Of course, you make an excellent point." Helen smiled reassuringly but James brushed it off. She knew how he hated to be out-thought, especially in matters of deduction. He moved past her to an archway that led deeper into the house.

"What say you, Helen?" John asked.

She had no idea what to tell them to look for. Her father knew that the Church withheld countless relics from pre-history, evidence of a time when Abnormals and humans coexisted. The evidence could manifest as anything at all. A journal entry, a map, a missive. She couldn't even honestly tell them precisely what it was she was looking for without explaining her father's Sanctuary and the creatures he protected in the catacombs beneath their home.

"All I can tell you is to start looking. Be alert for anything that seems out of the ordinary."

"Mysterious." John spoke the word as a sibilant hiss, but he was smiling as he continued to peruse the stack. Helen smiled and moved past him to see where James had gone off to. "Helen... now that I've seen the sheer magnitude of the task at hand, perhaps you wouldn't dissuade me from bringing in more help."

She was wary. "Whom did you have in mind?"

"No one of much import. Lower-class." He said it in a way that implied it meant more to others than it would to him. "He's employed at the Inner Temple as an assistant, quiet and unobtrusive. I doubt we'd even notice he was here."

Helen considered the offer and then examined the disorder of the house waiting excavation. "Very well. Yes, I'm sure we'll need all the help we can get."

"Splendid. I'll make a request for Mr. Griffin's help tomorrow."

Helen nodded and went deeper into the house. "James?" She followed the glow of his lantern into a small room. At first she thought he was examining a steamer trunk, but closer inspection revealed it was a hatched recess built into the wall. He was gingerly plying the lock with his fingers, holding it up to the lantern to get a look at the keyhole. "There you are."

"I don't suppose Mr. Druitt received any other keys with the estate."

"I'll ask." She crouched next to him, one arm across her knees. She looked at the room behind him, shadows looming and silhouetted by winter afternoon's weak light coming through the window. More piles of books and ledgers and loose papers and boxes. "It seems insurmountable, doesn't it?"

"That's one way of looking at it, certainly. Another way..." James held up his lantern so she could see his smile. She couldn't resist returning the grin. "It's a damned good mystery."

Helen couldn't resist laughing.

#

For the dusty and dirty work of digging through Reni's piles, Helen chose to wear men's clothing. She waited until she arrived to change, going into the boudoir to change out of her dress and into a pair of trousers and a man's shirt. She gathered her hair into a bun so as not to drag it through the layer of dust that seemed to infuse every surface. With her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, she attempted to help James crack the mystery of the locked cabinet while John's hired assistant, a nebbish young man named Nigel Griffin, sorted the rest of the mess into a less daunting semblance of order.

After two days, the chiffonier had been fully liberated from the surrounding wall, and bits of drywall and wood littered the floor around it. Despite this, they were still unable to penetrate its outer shell. James knocked the metal tip of his awl against it, catching his breath before he spoke. "As much as I hate to discourage Mr. Griffin's valiant efforts, I'm certain that whatever we seek will be found inside this infernal piece of furniture. Assuming we can ever get the thing open." He had suggested tearing it apart piece by piece, but Helen feared damaging anything fragile that might have been hidden inside.

"John seems to think it requires a more mechanical approach. He's bringing someone he thinks could be of assistant."

"Someone from Oxford?"

Helen nodded. "He's said to be a genius when it comes to this sort of thing."

They paused for lunch with Nigel, wiping away the debris of their sandwiches just as they heard John's key in the door. They stood to greet the latest addition to their little group. John smiled when he saw Helen, dipped his chin in greeting to James, and gestured at the man following.

"Helen Magnus, James Watson, Nigel Griffin. This is Adam Worth."

Adam doffed his bowler cap and held it in both hands, the collar of his shirt preventing him from doing more than bobbing his head slightly to them. He wore a natty jacket over an argyle sweater, the layers of clothes making him appear swarthy in the unexpectedly warm house. "Sirs. Miss. Mr. Druitt seems to think I can lend ya some assistance here."

"Yes, we hope so. Right this way."

They escorted him through the house to the locked cabinet. Adam whistled as he examined the latches on the front. "Someone didn't want anyone seein' what was inside here." He ran his palm along the side. "It's a puzzle all right."

"But one you can solve?" James asked.

Adam smiled, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. "I'll give it the ol' college try, Mr. Watson, you've my word on that."

"In the meantime," Helen said, "there's no sense in sitting around waiting. Perhaps the rest of us can help Mr. Griffin at his task."

Nigel shrugged. "I'd be happy for the help, Miss."

"Helen, please. In fact, I've grown tired of all this posh and circumstance. From now on, we'll do away with the proper address. From now on, you're simply Nigel. Agreed?"

He grinned. "Whatever you say, miss. Helen."

She chuckled and looked at John and James. "Well, gentlemen, shall we?"

They went to work, leaving Adam to crack the puzzle box. Helen sat cross-legged on the floor and arranged one stack of letters into stacks of personal correspondence and official Church business. In one letter from the abbot of a nearby monastery, Helen found reference to something called "the Source." A team of six monks had been entrusted with transporting something to Reni's church, where he would be charged with keeping it safe and secret "for his remaining years."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Helen muttered. She turned and looked at the cabinet. Adam was currently hunkered in front of the door with what appeared to be a jeweler's loupe squeezed against his eye. She went back to her work, putting aside the letter for later perusal.

Night was falling when Adam made a sound of victory. The others had scattered through the house, each lighting a different corner with their lanterns. The glows converged on Adam's position like fireflies and he wiped his hands before gesturing at the cabinet.

"There we are, lady and gentlemen."

"Excellent work, Adam. Thank you very much."

John put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Unfortunately, that is the extent of our needs at this time. It's nothing personal..."

"'Course not. Happy to lend my expertise. Let me know what you find, if it's anything worth a look." He winked and waved goodbye to the others. Helen managed to compose herself until John had escorted him out and returned before she pulled the doors open wide. James thrust his lantern inside, and Helen examined the interior with the three men.

"Well," James said softly. "That's disappointing."

A large clock stood on the second of four shelves. The face was polished tin set in a square frame of glass. Roman numerals were written on the face in ornate black ink. The framework of the clock was metal. Helen touched the hasp that would open it, but James stopped her with a quiet noise of unease.

"This is a nesting doll, Helen. The will, the clutter, the cabinet and now the clock. I wouldn't be so cavalier about opening it until we have a better idea of what awaits within. Not when we seem to be this close to a resolution."

"Right." She sighed and gingerly returned the clock to the shelf. "Any bright ideas?"

James curled a finger over his chin as he looked at the clock. "Hm. Well, if we're dealing with a puzzle hidden inside something as complex as a clock, I do have one idea."

#

Nikola Tesla ran the side of his thumb over his mustache before he raised his eyes to the people gathered around his table. He was slender and stately, dark hair pomaded into a slick helmet and his mustache perfectly trimmed. He remained silent for a moment before he casually gestured at the item they'd brought him. "It's an Atmos clock. A perpetual motion device. Or at least it was... this one isn't working."

"Do you have any idea why?"

Nikola seemed to only have eyes for Helen, since she had been the one to approach him in the Meadow. She had gone as herself, hair in curls and wearing a crimson dress, and James was certain the Serbian scientist would be more open to an entreaty from a woman. It seemed he was correct; Nikola directed his response to her despite the fact it was James who asked. "An Atmos clock operates on a mixture of ethyl chloride in liquid and gaseous forms. The hermetically-sealed chamber of this clock is filled with something else. I could open it and discover what it is."

Helen glanced at the other men. They were all in this together, Nigel included. Nikola's involvement would bring them to five. She had gone from solitude, operating alone in the shadows to having an entire coterie following alongside her. Finally, she nodded. "We need to know, and we'd prefer if it be removed with the utmost care."

"But of course."

Nikola returned the clock to the table. "You, the teaboy."

Nigel bristled. "You talkin' to me?"

"Hand me that beaker, if you would."

"His name is Nigel." Helen retrieved the beaker and placed it next to Nikola's left hand. He focused on the hasp, pulling it free and lifting his chin as he carefully opened the inner chamber of the device. Helen and the others couldn't resist leaning forward to see what was inside. Helen smelled something undeniably familiar, and the thought of it being inside the clock turned her stomach.

"Dear God."

"Is that--" James asked.

"It would appear so." Nikola wrinkled his nose as he lifted the clock and poured the thick, dark blood into the beaker. Nigel turned away and James closed his eyes at the sight of the bleeding clock.

Helen pressed a fist to her mouth, breathed deeply, and forced herself to speak. "Get every drop. Leave nothing behind."

"Why in blazes would an excommunicated priest fill a clock with human blood?" James barked.

"Don't be so certain it's human," Helen said, drawing the eyes of all the men to her. She picked up the beaker and held it to the light. Everything she had heard about Reni and the secrets he held, the letter referring to the Source, and now this. She had a sneaking suspicion of why it had been so thoroughly hidden and, if she was correct, what she was holding shouldn't exist. Her hand was shaking so she carefully put the beaker down before it shattered.

"What in blazes are you talking about, Helen?" James said softly.

Helen folded her hands on top of the table. "What I am about to tell you, gentlemen, is to be kept in the strictest confidence. It goes no further than the five of us."

"Just the five," James agreed.

"We five, we happy five," John said with a smile.

Nigel and Nikola both agreed with a nod and Helen braced herself. She was about to reveal the truth her father had sworn her to secrecy so very long ago. But if the blood in that beaker was truly what she believed it was, she would require the genius and talents of the men standing around her. She stood up straight and organized her thoughts.

"We've all come to this point, to this University, to expand our knowledge on the world around us. To determine where we as a people have come from and where we are going in the future. That vial, gentlemen, is proof that we've barely even scratched the surface. Get comfortable. This is going to be a bit hard to take."


	3. For Tomorrow We Die

1885.  
Helen always assumed she missed out on the experience of having siblings. As the months of research turned into years, she discovered that her experiences with John, James, Nikola and Nigel proved she had missed very little. They could be combative brats, and they found ways to turn even the most ridiculous thing into a competition. Nikola mocked James' new beard, while James derided Nikola's accent. There was never a lack of material right for mockery, and she couldn't count the number of times she had been forced to look away from her calculations to slap the table to quiet a frivolous argument.

Of course, not everything about her time with the men was fraternal. John invited her to see him argue a case, something he had done with far less frequency following the revelation of Abnormal life. He had dedicated himself to their experiments with the Source blood, always available to provide an extra pair of hands in the laboratory or to use his position as schoolmaster to alleviate concerns about the time Helen was spending behind locked doors with men without a chaperone.

When he finished with court, they often took long walks together. Helen enjoyed the fresh air and exercise, grateful for the chance to be out of the laboratory. She feared a break would ruin her concentration but she often found she worked much more efficiently after one of her walks with John. He gave her a chance to rest, to laugh. Sometimes she took the powdered wig he was required to wear when trying a case and wore it herself, balancing it on top of her curls and walking as officiously as possible. She always felt gratified when she could make John laugh.

John, meanwhile, struck up a strong camaraderie with James and soon the men were nigh inseparable. If Helen was seen alone, it could be inferred that John was somewhere with James and the reverse was also true. John treated her to plays and carriage rides along the Thames, while he and James debated court cases both past and present and got their aggression out by joining whatever cricket matches they could find.

Helen started to hear John's voice in her dreams and woke in a state of unrest, often forced to the kitchen for a glass of water to act as a salve for her fevered mind. To do anything else would be inappropriate.

Of the five of them, Nigel seemed to require the most adjustment. He was distinctly lower-class than the rest of them and often grew silent when talk turned to entertainment. Nikola enjoyed pestering him about it, but Nigel gave as good as he got. Meanwhile John, James and Nikola all seemed to have designs on being the first to make Helen blush. She was determined not to let any of them win.

The Source blood soon became one of many experiments carried out by the group, which quickly gained the moniker 'the Five' from others at Oxford. Adam Worth attempted to nose his way in on several occasions only to be rebuffed every time. Researching ways to utilize the blood led to tangents relating to their own individual interests. Often Helen was recalled by her father to assist with the Sanctuary, and once or twice she was able to bring along a member of her group to lend a hand.

Schoolmaster Druitt appropriated a classroom for them to use, and it quickly filled with detritus from so many varied outlets that one might mistake their journal entries for Gothic literature. While the boys had their distractions, Helen's focus always remained on the Source blood. The few references to it in Mauro Reni's records hinted at how devastating it could be in the wrong hands.

Helen tended toward long hours in their borrowed classroom studying every aspect of the Source blood. One night she was resting her eyes when a book was slipped out from underneath her hand. She snatched at it, only to have her hand deflected by a gentle touch. John used a ribbon to mark her place in the journal, placed it out of her reach, and showed her his palm. "Come with me."

"There's far too much to be done." She stood to retrieve the book.

"Helen." Her shoulders sagged; there was no denying that tone. It was the same one he used in court to illustrate a particularly unbelievable point. It never failed. "Twenty minutes. The fresh air will rejuvenate you, and you will attack the problem anew."

Helen placed her palm against his and allowed him to pull her away from the table. He waited for her to dress against the cold, and then offered her his elbow before locking the door and escorting her outside. It had grown late while she was doing her research, and she was surprised by the thick ribbons of stars stretching overhead. She turned her collar against the breeze and let John guide her.

"Where are the boys?"

"Nikola and Nigel said something about examining Adam Worth's latest atrocity without his interference."

Helen rolled her eyes. "The man is a visionary, I'll give him that."

"Yes, but those visions tend to be of the Hieronymus Bosch variety. And James?"

"He mentioned something about a meeting with that physician, Dr. Conan Doyle."

Helen clucked her tongue. "I do hope everything is all right. He's been visiting that doctor more often lately. It would be very in his nature to keep an ailment from us for fear we would dote on him." She tightened her grip on John's arm.

"I'm certain it's nothing serious. James mentioned a literary project with which he's assisting the good doctor. And I have my practice and the game. The only one out of our little group who has no outside pursuits is currently strolling by my side."

Helen smiled. "Oh, I have plenty of outside interests. The plays you drag me to, watching you and James play cricket... occasionally I assist my father with the Sanctuary."

"And you've kept your little secret from him?"

Her smile faded and she dipped her chin in a subtle nod. "I fear he would put an end to our efforts when I can't help but think we are so close to a solution."

"And once we have achieved that?" Helen looked up at him. "Honestly, Helen, you can't tell me you haven't thought about what happens when we've finished this experiment?"

"Well, as you just informed me, you boys all have your extracurricular pursuits. We've proven we can all work well together, of course, but there will be no need for us to be constrained to each other once the thing that bonds us is complete. Once we've cracked this mystery, I'm certain we'll go our separate ways."

John tightened his arm to pin hers to his side. She looked at him and he turned so they were facing each other.

"And if I refuse that plan?" He brought his hand up to touch her hair. "If I believe there are other mysteries left to solve?"

Helen was grateful for the darkness. "Oh, John... what would you do with a spinster like me?"

"Would you like an enumerated list?"

Before she could answer, John bowed and captured her lips with his. Helen remained frozen, waiting for it to be over, not sure if she wanted it to end. When John put his hands in her hair, Helen parted her lips and let her weight fall against him. He held her, and she thrilled when she felt his tongue enter her mouth. Her cheeks felt like they had been lit on fire, and the feel of his long slender fingers untangling her curls was exquisite.

When they parted, Helen touched her mouth and took a step back from him. "My lord."

"Forgive my weakness. I couldn't bear the thought of us parting without you knowing how I felt. And now I fear I may have ruined what little time we had remaining."

"Yes, Mr. Druitt. Irreparably ruined it." She stepped forward and kissed him, surprising him by taking the initiative. His arms went to her waist as if to hold her back but, as their tongues met, he slowly moved his hand to cup her breast. Helen drew in a sharp breath and kissed him harder. She rolled her shoulders back so that his hand pressed harder against her. She moved her hand to the back of his head and kept it in his hair as they pulled apart again.

"Take me home, John."

"As you wish, madam."

Helen tried to move calmly, measuring her steps and her breaths as she clung to John. He was taller than her, legs sweeping like scythes as he guided her back to the roadway. She could feel the drum of her heart in her throat and her mouth was dry. John hailed a coach and guided her into the back, and her skin tingled where he touched her hip to help her inside.

She sat with her hands primly folded between her knees to hide how they shook. John directed the coachman to her flat and then turned to face her.

"Thank you, Helen. I've wanted to do that for months."

"Thank..." She furrowed her brow. "The night is not over yet, John Druitt."

"Isn't it?"

Helen leaned in and kissed the corners of his mouth. She took his hand and placed it back on her breast, moaning when he squeezed it.

"You are not the only one with desires that need quelled."

They necked like teenagers in the back of the coach until Helen intuited they were nearing her home. She pulled away from him and John dropped a hand to take hers. When they disembarked, he took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckle as he paid the coachman and escorted her to the door of her building. He stopped walking and she snaked an arm around his waist to urge him forward.

"Don't become demure now, Mr. Druitt. Onward."

They entered the house and Helen let him into her flat. She could barely hear over her heart, could barely function due to the trembling of her fingers. Once they were inside she turned to him and he claimed her lips once more. She tilted her head up to his, and one of his fingers moved to the topmost button of her gown.

"John, hurry." She didn't move her mouth from his and spoke the word against his lips, which were parted and moist from her kisses. He undid the buttons, pushed the material open, and cupped her breast through the thin material of her basque. Helen whimpered and bit his bottom lip, and John guided her until she was braced against the wall.

Her outer clothes were removed with haste, her breasts teased through bodice of her underclothes until the nipples stood erect against the thin material. John's cheek was hot against her lips. He lowered his head and kissed her throat, her chest, and the frilly lace just below the swell of her breast. She whispered his name, unable to think enough to say anything else, and moved her hand to the front of his trousers.

She gasped and pulled her hand away when she felt him, but she pushed back years of proper feminine behavior and touched him again. She traced the length of it through his pants, and he pushed down her underclothes to take her nipple into his mouth. Helen's bottom lip trembled. She found the buttons of his fly and painstakingly opened them. She knew that if there was light, her face would be vivid red, like the sky at sunset, but she managed to free his erection and took it in her hand.

"Helen..." He straightened, towering over her, and Helen dragged her fingers along the underside of his cock. It swelled at her touch and she squeezed him. "Helen, you must stop."

Even if she had understood what he said she wouldn't have been able to comply. She brushed her palm against the head of him and gasped when his semen spilled over her palm and wrist. John grunted and thrust his hips with his orgasm, and Helen stared wide-eyed until he ceased throbbing. Her ears were burning and she could feel his warm jism all over her hand.

"John, I am so sorry."

"Sorry? For God's sake, Helen, I should apologize to you." His laugh was deep and guttural, and she blushed as she buried her face against the lapel of his coat. He guided her hand away from his exposed organ and took a handkerchief from his pocket. He tenderly wiped off her palm and wrist, brought her hand to his mouth to kiss the heel of her hand, and then kissed her lips.

"Now we have time."

"Time?" she said, resigned to aping him.

He eased her away from the wall and smiled down at her in the darkness. "Which way to the boudoir?"

Helen bit her lip and led him through the darkness to her bedchambers.

#

Helen woke tousled and sore, uncertain why until she felt the weight on the mattress behind her. She rolled over to face John, smiling even as her cheeks pinked. They were both mostly nude, the only concession to propriety being that she had put on his shirt before they finally retired. It was unbuttoned and hung open to reveal her décolletage, cleavage and stomach. She gathered the tails to cover her mound as she sat up. John was asleep, the poor dear exhausted by her enthusiasm. She pushed her hair out of her face and pulled down the blankets to fully appreciate her friend's body. Of course now he was more than her friend, wasn't he?

The sun coming through her sheer curtains cast the entire situation in a new light, so to speak. When shadows were cast over everything, it was easy to whisper what she wanted and acceptable for him to comply. Now she expected shame and contriteness, but all she wanted was more. She wanted to see him as he did such delightfully improper things to her. She waited to feel ashamed, waited for the embarrassment and horror at what they had done to sink in.

Eventually, she gave up waiting and stared at her new lover. His chest was lean and hairless, pale with small pink nipples. His penis lay limp against his thigh, and the sight of it made her breath catch in her chest. She reached out to it without thinking and then closed her fingers around it. John sighed heavily without waking, and she wet her lips as she teased him to stiffness with sure strokes of her thumb and forefinger.

She shifted on the mattress, the cuffs of his dress shirt billowing around her dainty wrists. She pushed them up to her elbows to keep them out of her way as she kissed the pink tip of his penis. She wet him with her tongue and closed her eyes, enjoying the taste as she circled him and drew him deeper into her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her head and she smiled as much as she could. Her governess when she was thirteen had explained to her the things proper women didn't do even with their husbands, and this practice had been high on the list. At the time Helen hadn't understood why anyone would ever wish to do something so base and nauseating, but now. Oh, _now_.

Her free hand found his scrotum, and his hand found the back of her neck. He massaged as she took as much of him as she could. She still didn't know how to predict an orgasm, but she felt his grip tighten ever so slightly just before her mouth was filled. He lifted his lower body off the bed, and Helen swallowed so she wouldn't choke. When at last he was spent, she released him from her mouth and kissed her way back up his body.

"Good morning, Mr. Druitt." Her hair was in her eyes, and he smiled and combed it back. Helen kissed his palm. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not at all." He smiled and kissed her lips. Helen decided she could very easily get used to another body in her bed and a kiss to start the day. "However, I feel our... activities last evening were rather unfocused."

"How do you mean?"

"I feel there was much time spent on my enjoyment and very little on yours."

Helen smiled. "The proper hostess always ensures her guest is entertained."

He propped himself up on one elbow and stroked her cheek with a crooked finger. "Perhaps I shall make amends this morning. Would you care for a bath, Miss Magnus? I promise to reach every inch of you."

She couldn't stop herself from shivering at the thought. "Well, Mr. Druitt, that sounds wonderful."

They kissed again, and Helen slid out of the bed. John followed her to the lavatory and, once she wasn't looking at him, she was able to think of a very real concern. "What shall we tell the others? Nikola, Nigel... James."

"I suppose we must tell them."

"James will deduce it in an instant even if we don't." She took off his shirt and she heard his sharp intake of breath. She coyly covered her sex with one hand, crossing an arm over her breasts before she turned to face him. "That is, if there is indeed something to tell."

"Surely you don't believe I'm going to abandon you. Helen." He stepped closer and cupped her cheek. Helen closed her eyes and pressed herself against him, feeling the warmth of his naked body against hers. He held her, and she rested her head against his chest. He kissed her hair, and she stroked his back.

After a long moment, he spoke. "We should probably start your bath soon if we want to make it to the laboratory on time."

Helen shook her head without opening her eyes. "Let us be late. Today of all days... let us just be late."

John chuckled and whispered, "Very well."

#

As predicted, Helen was certain James knew the moment they walked in the door. They arrived at the laboratory together, two hours later than normal, and she'd noticed a look of disbelief on his face. Helen asked for their attention and calmly revealed that she and John had gone home together the night before. Nigel seemed unmoved, and Nikola seemed alight with prurient interest. The only one whose reaction she couldn't read was James, who seemed oddly withdrawn after the announcement.

Once the news had settled they got back to work. Helen noticed that James peaceably offered to retrieve their lunch and felt guilty as he slipped from the room. She wasn't sure what his feelings were. As much as the world was an open book to him, he kept his own secrets close to the vest. She was about to follow him when John rose and moved to the door. He nodded to her, and she took that to mean he would take care of it. She smiled and returned to her seat.

The door closed, and Nikola straightened his back and regarded her with a sly grin. "So, Helen. Are those wedding bells we hear in the distance, or is this a new aspect of our research? If so, I'd like to hope I'm on the list before Nigel."

"Don't know why she'd waste time with you, guv. Rule, Britannia, right, Helen?"

Helen rolled her eyes as she rose from her stool. "I won't even dignify this conversation with a response." She walked to the window and saw James crossing the courtyard, hands in his pockets and head bowed. John caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. The bonds between the five of them were strong, but it seemed none were stronger than the one between John and James. Well, she amended, perhaps the one between her and John was a bit more solid.

But still, through her the two men had found a truly unique friendship. She prayed she and John's happiness hadn't destroyed it.

"Are you going to moon at the window all afternoon, or shall we do an honest day's research?"

"Patience, Nikola."

She watched as James and John resumed walking together and relief flooded her. Perhaps there was no permanent damage after all. Certainly they might be able to complete their Source blood experiments without James, but doing it without him didn't bear thinking about. John had made a very valid point before she stopped thinking the night before. One day they would finish with the Source blood and then... what? They would all go their separate ways? Unimaginable.

She didn't even want to think about the possibility of a life without John or James. She had come far on her own, but now she had found friends, colleagues. She would do everything in her power to preserve it.

#

Helen had vowed to never be a slave to propriety, but she knew a scandal could destroy both of John's careers. She remained discreet for his sake, and they restricted their dalliances to places they were certain would remain undisturbed. He took her punting on the river Cherwell and they would find secluded places in the woods to enjoy one another's company before returning to the University. Far from the distraction Helen feared their rendezvous would be, they cleared her mind to the point where she would often drag John out of the laboratory when she was feeling particularly stymied.

The idea of creating a serum with the Source blood came to her while John's hand was being warmed inside her bodice, two fingers circling her nipple. She had finished him quickly, apologizing for being brusque, and hurried back to the classroom to make the necessary calculations.

She was frustrated by her inability to test on the Source blood itself. They had such a limited supply that she was loath to waste a drop. She substituted blood samples taken by residents of her father's Sanctuary, given with their permission with full knowledge it would be used for scientific research. The most difficult part of that was keeping enough for her own experiments after James and Nikola learned she had acquired it.

It was late winter, with an icy rain pelting the glass of their burrow when Helen lifted her head from the microscope lens. "James? Would you please take a look at this?"

He left his position by the chalkboard and bowed his head to the device. He adjusted the focus and his fingers tapped the knob when he met her gaze. "By Jove, Helen. You've done it."

Helen smiled, proud of herself and looked at the other men. They left their stations and approached her table to hear what she had done. James stepped back to allow Nikola a view through the lenses. "A serum," James explained to the others, "that will render the Source blood safe for human injection."

Nigel's eyes widened. "You're mad."

"On the contrary, I believe that's precisely its original intention. Otherwise why save it for all these centuries? The Church was terrified of it because it was an indication of the next great leap in human evolution. This is the missing link between human and Abnormal. By injecting it we would remain human, but become so much more."

Nikola raised an eyebrow. "Are you using the royal 'we,' Helen, or do you truly intend to share?"

She was surprised he had to ask. "This is our triumph, gentlemen. We should all share in the fruits of our labors."

James lifted the bottle of Source blood and held it to the flame of the lantern. Webs of dried blood clung to the neck of the vial, and the liquid roiled darkly in the belly of the glass. "Something like this should not be undertaken lightly, Helen. We've no idea what injection would do. Perhaps we should test the results on white mice first."

Helen bristled at the thought. "Then we would be no better than Adam Worth and his two-headed dormice."

Nikola agreed. "Let us not forget there is a limited supply of the blood. We could run tests until we have exhausted the supply and then where would we be?"

"We could make a mousey circus," Nigel suggested, drawing a smile from James.

Helen was watching John. "What say you, Mr. Druitt?"

"The path to knowledge is fraught with dangers, Ms. Magnus. Faint heart never won fair maiden." He met her eye, and she knew he was giving her his blessing to do whatever she desired.

Helen nodded her gratitude. "Then it's settled. I'll devise a large enough dose of the serum for an injection. I should have something by the week-end. I shall be the test subject, since I'm the one who forced this quest upon all of you. Should anything go wrong, I trust you will be able to correct it before taking the injections yourself."

James and John both looked uncomfortable by mention of the unforeseen dangers. Helen forced herself to remain stoic; if they saw how frightened she was they might attempt to dissuade her.

"A proposal, gentlemen. There is every chance that injecting this serum will prove disastrous. Even if one of us has no ill effects, there's no guarantee what it will do to a different physiology. We're all taking our lives in our hands. I suggest we all take this time to treat ourselves. We've spent the past two years in this stifling room. We should use this as an opportunity to indulge in something we may otherwise be too frightened or timid to undertake."

Nigel smiled. "Eat, drink, and be merry."

"Hm." Nikola raised an eyebrow. "I have been holding on to a bottle of 1846 amontillado in honor of Mr. Poe's tale. I suppose there is no time like the present."

"Absolutely." Helen looked at James, John and Nigel. "As John said, gentlemen. For tomorrow, we die."

A silence fell over the group as they all ruminated on how to spend their possible last evening of life. She knew what John had in store and couldn't look at him without blushing. So she focused on James. His eyes swept the room as if deep in thought, but she noticed that he studiously avoided alighting on two of the subjects in the room. She couldn't say for certain what he had in mind, but she could make an educated guess. She finally looked at John and saw him watching her. She reached across the table to take his hand as a plan began to hatch in her mind.

#

The weather cooperated enough that Helen and James were able to take a walk along the Thames the day before Helen had designated for their experiment. It was cold but sunny, a hint of the springtime hopefully in the offing. The winter meant that the foliage and grasses that ran alongside the Thames were little more than dried husks, but some of it was still simply marvelous to look at. To Helen there was beauty even in decay, and she knew that the dormant branches and withered leaves would soon burst forth into such magnificence of color that it was almost a miracle. How could anyone find that less than beautiful?

Helen wore a bonnet against the wind, but James was bareheaded. Helen stayed close to him, using his body as a shield against the more aggressive gusts off the water.

"I should thank John for allowing me to borrow you this afternoon. It's been lovely."

"For me as well. And there's no need to tell John anything. I am not his to loan away."

James smiled. "Of course. My apologies, Helen. Then I shall extend my gratitude to you for agreeing to accompany me." He breathed deeply and looked across the river. "The past week has seemed a bit like a holiday, hasn't it? Hardly any time spent in a laboratory or classroom, all of us enjoying the simple pleasures found in a bottle of sherry or a promenade with a gorgeous young lady." He patted her hand and Helen smiled fondly at him.

"It's been a whirlwind, yes. Of course, you boys have all been free to do as you wish. I had to spend some time with the experiment. Mustn't have any errors."

"It would be a tragedy." The humor had fled from James' tone. He stopped and turned to face her, making certain she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Helen, if you wish to postpone the experiment, none of us would think any less of you."

"Mm. There is one member of the Five who would never forgive me for taking the coward's way out, and she is standing beside you now. I've sought this prize for too long to be overly cautious now. I've weighed the possible consequences, James, and I have decided I must do this. I hope you understand."

He nodded. "Of course I understand, Helen. But I had to make the appeal."

Helen smiled and rested her head on his shoulder as they resumed walking. "And what of you, James Watson? How have you spent this holiday? Nikola has his wine, which he shared with Nigel. And Nigel treated John and Nikola to a hot-air balloon ride. As far as I can tell you've done nothing but read."

"There's little time for anything else." He sighed wearily. "So many great volumes, and I fear that I've barely scratched the surface. My greatest fear is that one day I will pass on to the choir invisible while in the middle of a really fantastic novel."

Helen gave a full-throated laugh and tightened her arm around his. "Heaven forbid! Your ghost would haunt us until we read it and told you how it ended. But surely there is something else you desire. Now is not the time to be demure, James. We'll take this step together, with no regrets. It's what we've agreed."

James sighed and they stopped walking again. He looked across the water while Helen looked at him. "Nikola's wine and Nigel's balloon ride... everyone else has dreams that require little from anyone else. My desire is a bit more problematic. Impossible, one might say."

"Oh, James. Surely the past two years have taught you not to use that word in my presence." That earned a smile from him, and he stared at her with several unspoken volumes behind his eyes. "You can tell me anything, James."

He leaned forward and Helen braced herself for a kiss. When his lips bypassed hers, his whiskers brushing her cheek, she tensed as he spoke directly into her ear. She blushed and eyed the people passing them on the pathway, feeling somehow more exposed than if he had actually kissed her. They were standing close, her arm still around his, and now he was speaking to her in such an intimate manner that she ducked her chin. She pressed her lips against his jacket as she listened to him and understood why he had rejected the very thought of speaking his desires aloud.

James took one step back and waited in silence until she met his gaze again. She wet her lips, thoroughly unprepared for his revelation. Certainly she had noticed a deep kinship between John and James, the long walks and the brotherly jabs that seemed common when young men were in close proximity to one another. But she'd also rightly assumed it went deeper, hadn't she? John had spoken of it infrequently in post-coital confessionals. Her head on his naked hip, his fingers making webs of her hair, how often had James come up? Far too often to be a coincidence.

"You don't have to say anything." His voice intruded on her thoughts. "What could possibly be said after such a declaration? I--"

"Yes."

He stared at her. Helen slipped her arm free of his and stepped to his other side so he would remain between her and the water for the walk back. She took his arm once more and pulled him to her, forcing him to either walk or be dragged alongside her like a disobedient pup. He met her long strides and ducked his chin, too surprised or embarrassed to speak. Helen felt uneasy herself, a bit giddy to be honest, and her heart was a timpani.

"John and I will have you over for supper this evening. Are you free?"

"I... believe so."

Helen smiled. "Splendid. Let us return to where it is warm and not quite so blustery."

He agreed and they hurried along the river's edge.

#

Their last meal consisted of civet de lapin with red wine. The candles had burned down to where they were giving off a steady yellow ochre glow. The shades were drawn, sparing them even the dim extra illumination of the gaslights. James had brought along his violin and played a pastoral tune while Helen and John danced. Her hands were draped on his shoulders, and his rested in the small of her back with his fingers overlapping. Helen's hair was down, her shoes set aside, and both men had left their jackets draped over the back of their chairs. Helen idly kissed John's neck as they swayed, moving her lips from his shirt collar to the lobe and taking it teasingly between her lips. When she whispered, "Now," James had no idea anything had been said and continued playing.

"Poor James," John said, his voice purposefully loud. "If I'd learned to play I would offer to let you cut in."

James didn't miss a beat with the song, but he lifted his gaze to address them. "I'm having a perfectly wonderful time."

"Nonsense." Helen turned her head to regard him over her shoulder. "One doesn't need music to dance. Join us, James."

The music continued for another stanza before it ceased and the silence crowded around them. He returned his violin to the case and Helen pressed her cheek against John's chest and breathed deeply as she waited for his touch. They were all fully aware of what was going to happen, and they all knew the true reason for this dinner, but Helen couldn't stop her anxiety.

James touched her arm with one hand, the other sliding over her waist just above John's arm. The men pressed against Helen from either side. For a moment she considered lifting her feet to see if they could support her, but she was afraid of falling. She unlinked her fingers and reached back to touch James' cheek. She turned her head and his lips found her cheek dangerously close to the corner of her mouth.

John kissed a spot between her eyebrow and temple at the same moment. She parted her lips in a surprised gasp, and James fitted his mouth against hers in a sudden and passionate kiss. His tongue was in her mouth, and John tightened his grip to pull her waist tightly against his. All pretense had faded now, and Helen let her eyes close as she pressed her hips against John's. From behind she could feel James' arousal, and she swooned, holding on to her men and realizing there was a good chance of falling regardless.

"Shall we adjourn...?" John said, that deep basso rumble of his voice echoing in Helen's ears. She broke the kiss with James, stroked his cheek, and he backed away. John spun Helen to press against her from behind as he walked her out of the main room of her flat. James trailed behind, hesitant and uncertain.

In the bedroom, John stepped away to light a lantern at the bedside. Helen turned and took James' hand to pull him inside. "It's okay," she said before she kissed him again. Their lips met just as John ignited the wick of their lantern, and both of them felt as if the glow came from them. It took him a moment to respond, but eventually he rose to the occasion. Helen loosened his tie, and she startled when John's hands appeared around her throat. He undid the buttons of her dress and she still, letting him undress her as she worked the buttons of James' shirt.

Once his chest was bare, Helen broke the kiss and explored him with her hands. His chest was muscular, dark with hair and so unlike John's chest. She loved John's chest, but variety was definitely a good thing. She bent at the waist and kissed his throat, brushing her lips down and brushing her fingers over his nipples before raking her nails through the thick dark curls of his abdomen.

John pressed against her from behind. She heard his clothing being removed, felt his steadying hand on her hip, and she pressed back against the familiar shape of his cock through layers of undergarments, dress and trousers. Her bodice was undone, so John gripped the back of the collar and pulled. Helen's arms were bare, her upper chest exposed, and she dropped her hands back to work James' belt.

She pushed his trousers down and cupped him through his underwear. When she looked up to see his reaction, she was stunned into stillness by the sight of John and James tenderly kissing one another. She flushed and turned away, stroking the length of him through his underwear until she could make out the shape of him. He was large, thicker than John, and she kissed the shaft through the cloth. She used her mouth on him and used her hands to push her dress and skirts out of the way.

Helen rose, the men pressing tight against her on either side as they broke their kiss. John kissed Helen's lips and James dropped his head to her breasts. They were manic, all of them attempting to touch or be touched. Helen guided James' hand between her legs, but it was only there for a moment before John displaced it. Helen felt lightheaded, certain she would faint. Would they wait for her to wake before the continued? She doubted it. She wasn't sure she would want them to.

John's cock pressed between her legs and, a moment later, she felt James' as well. She moved her hand down and groaned helplessly as they began to slide against each other. The head of John's cock pressed against her clitoris in a way that almost made her knees fail. James groaned, weak and helpless as he began to move his hips. She was standing on her toes to accommodate their additional height, clinging to James and resting her weight against John so she wouldn't fall.

Helen lifted her head as each man claimed one side of her throat as his own. Her lips were parted in a mute cry of pleasure, her hips rocking and eager for something inside of her. She pressed a hand to her own sex. She pushed two fingers inside and stroked, listening to the symphony of grunts and harsh breathing that surrounded her. James whispered her name; John growled it. They whispered one another's names as well.

She felt the evidence of an orgasm before either of them claimed it vocally. It dripped from their cocks, running down the inside of her thigh and then joined by a second burst. They thrust against each other, pinning Helen between them in a most intoxicating manner. She came on her fingers as they kissed her chest and across her shoulders, sucking her nipples and nibbling her ears, their semen wet on her most intimate of places.

Finally, she allowed herself to fall. John caught her and half-dragged her to the bed where she was deposited on the mattress. He and James joined her, golden men in the waning glow of the lantern, and she touched them both. Her right hand traced the muscles of James' right arm while two fingers of her left hand circled the lean planes of John's stomach and chest. The men kissed each other, John whispered something as he pushed Helen's thighs apart.

She wet her lips as she was exposed. James settled in the nest of her thighs, bracing himself with one hand on either side of her head. She could see his features clearly now, the beads of sweat on ruddy skin, his coiffed hair hopelessly tangled as he poised himself at the entrance of her sex. Helen was afraid to take a breath as she stared up at him, aware of the sweat on her own face and between her breasts.

John knelt behind James, and Helen had only a vague idea of what he intended. James hissed and groaned, and the veins on his neck stood out as he lifted his chin. "Gods..."

"Are you ready, Helen?" John asked, a disembodied voice from somewhere over James' shoulder.

"Yes." She didn't care what the question was; yes was her answer for the evening. John grunted with exertion, and James was shoved from behind. His cock sank into her, and Helen's eyes widened at the sudden invasion. "Oh!"

John guided them, James' face twisted in a contradictory grimace of slight discomfort and utter pleasure. Helen tightened around James, squeezing him in a vain effort to keep him seated within her. The music of James' violin was replaced by a much different symphony. It was a tuplet of sighs, moans, whimpers and cries. Flesh provided the percussion, and the only lyrics consisted of names whispered against shoulders wet with perspiration.

Helen was spent before the men and begged off, easing from under their weight and rolling onto her side to watch as they made love to one another. She stroked James' hair, kissed John when he leaned toward her, and teasingly touched herself until the men were as sated as she was. She kissed them both in turn and John guided her between them. They pressed her in a warm vice, and Helen couldn't remember ever feeling safer.

James inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing. He kissed Helen's hair, and she ducked her chin against his chest feeling impossibly tiny as the men closed their arms around her. She wanted to ask James how he felt, to know for sure he'd gotten precisely what he sought, but exhaustion suddenly claimed her. She lowered her head to James' chest, closed her eyes, and drifted away with John's fingers idly stroking her naked hip.

#

Anyone venturing outdoors would have denied the fact spring was closing in; winter had a firm hold on the world, turning rain to sleet as it pelted the windows of the classroom the Five had spent two long and arduous years. Now the room was vacant, its important elements transferred to a cellar room far from any potential eavesdroppers. They had no idea what reaction Helen would have to the Source blood, and they wished to keep anyone from coming to investigate should things get out of control.

Nikola had accepted the task of preparing the serum. He took care, ensuring there was no mistake. Finally he could delay no longer. "It's ready."

He picked up the syringe and looked back to where Helen was waiting. James stood behind her chair, and John was a constant presence at her side. Nigel was standing by the stairs, ready to intercept if anyone happened to seek shelter here. She took comfort from all of them, felt their strength supplementing her own.

Nigel made one final appeal. "You don't have to go first. John or I could have a go to start."

"He's right." James remained still, obviously restraining himself from touching her. "No need for unnecessary heroics. The side effects are completely unknown."

Helen smiled. She was terrified, but she couldn't allow them to see that. She smiled as Nikola approached and knelt on her left side facing John. "Thank you, gentlemen. But this experiment was of my design. I shall be the one to prove its worth." She unbuttoned the cuff of her left sleeve and Nikola prepared the injection site with a daub of alcohol.

John took her hand in his and she turned to him. "Helen, you're certain?"

She smiled. "We've risked too much to turn back now. We need to know." She took a steadying breath and looked back to Nikola. "You may proceed."

He looked at John and James, as if seeking their permission, but neither contradicted Helen's order. She was, and would always be, the one in charge of this little experiment of theirs. Nikola pressed the tip of the needle against her arm and, with the slightest pressure, it was in her vein. She winced slightly and watched as his thumb depressed the plunger.

Her entire body reacted violently, and the movement surprised her as much as it did the others. Nigel took a step forward, and Helen seized once more. Her eyes were wide, her chest tight. She knew she had to breathe but her lungs and throat seemed reluctant to comply. She felt Nikola's hand in hers, but her fingers felt like dead weight.

Helen heard James speak her name. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm fine." Her voice cracked on the second word and she pulled away from Nikola. She braced herself on John's shoulder to rise from the chair and she stood on trembling legs until she felt confident enough to take a step. She breathed deeply and focused on the stairs.

She took one step and collapsed into John's arms. The men converged on her position, and John gently placed her on the floor to use James' folded jacket as a pillow. Cold water was splashed in her face, and John gently tapped her cheeks until they were rosy red. These and even the more desperate attempts to revive her came to naught. Though her heart beat and her lungs took in air, Helen Magnus was essentially a corpse.


	4. Persephone Wakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men watch over Helen's sickbed, while Helen's feverish mind wanders back over her memories.

The four men worked like thieves in the night. Nikola donned a cloak and felt top hat, venturing out into the downpour to find a carriage. John and James wrapped Helen in a thick blanket and waited impatiently for the sound of approaching hooves. Nigel removed all evidence of the serum and the Source blood, clearing the room of anything that would reveal their presence.

When Nikola returned, icy rain dripping from the brim of his hat and his face pale from the cold, the men carefully carried Helen up the stairs and laid her in the back of the transport Nikola had found. It was John who identified it, and he grabbed the collar of Nikola's cloak and barked in his face, "A hearse?"

Nikola glared at him. "I would like to see you find an appropriate conveyance. We have four men and a woman who is lying prone. Care to try your luck, barrister?"

James put a hand on John's arm. "Leave him be, John. It will serve our purposes."

John held Nikola for a moment longer than necessary before shoving him away. He climbed into the back of the hearse and knelt beside Helen. James and Nigel followed, while Nikola returned to the driver's seat. They heard the snap of the reins and Nikola's "hya!" before the carriage lurched into motion. James had one knee bent, his elbow resting upon it so that he could press a fist against his mouth. John folded back the blankets so they could see Helen's face. In repose she looked angelic, her chin tilted toward the sky and her eyes so lightly closed that it seemed they would snap open at any moment. Her skin looked like marble.

John removed his pocketwatch and held it underneath her nose. An instant later, the polished metal fogged from her breath and all three men in the compartment released a breath as well.

"What are we going to do?" Nigel didn't sound panicked, but he was close. "We didn't... I mean, we planned for this, but she didn't tell us what to do if it actually happened."

"Nothing has happened." John sounded deceptively calm. "Helen is not dead, I've just demonstrated that. Her body has simply had an unforeseen reaction to the Source blood. Helen knew this was a possibility, and now we must make amends."

James tenderly touched Helen's cheek, and Nigel looked away. He and Nikola were all too aware that something intimate had occurred between Helen, James and John, and much speculation had been shared over a bottle of sherry as to how the geometry worked. But that wasn't important at the moment. All that mattered was the fact that the experiment to which they'd dedicated the past two years seemed to have gone up in flames in the most tragic way possible. Without Helen to anchor them, their small group would implode. And where would that leave him? He hated how selfish he felt, but he couldn't help it.

Nikola pulled to a stop in front of Helen's home and disembarked. John cradled Helen in his arms while James held an umbrella overhead. Nikola hurried up the stairs and unlocked the door, stepping to one side to allow John entrance. They entered into the dining room, with the parlor to the left and a corridor to the bedroom branching off beside the couch. They removed their outer clothes so as not to spread water throughout the residence and James followed the path of droplets John had left on his way down the hall.

Nikola started to follow as well, but James held up a hand. "Please. Give us a moment, Nik."

In Helen's bedroom, he found John kneeling beside the bed. Helen looked as if she was asleep, her hands by her sides. Despite their precautions, her clothes were wet. James moved to the wardrobe. "She'll catch her..." He cut himself off and chided himself for the unfortunate turn of phrase. "We should get her into fresh clothes."

"Right." John unbuttoned Helen's vest while James searched for an appropriate outfit that didn't look funereal or inappropriately taboo. He finally chose a simple sleeveless linen gown with a slightly scooped collar. He returned to the bed and helped John with the buttons of Helen's shirt cuffs. While John removed her skirts and underclothes, James unpinned her hair and let the curls fall loose onto the pillows.

Neither man commenting on the fact the room still smelled of the night they had spent there. The bedclothes were still wrinkled and unmade, and James had to wonder if Helen had deliberately left it so as a reminder to herself. Once her clothes were removed, John tenderly lifted her so that James could put her into the gown. He did up the buttons and lowered her back to the mattress.

"Come back to us, Helen." James touched her cheek, relieved to find it still warm. He straightened the quilt and drew it over Helen's legs and hips, tucking it under her arms so it would look more as if she was simply sleeping off a normal illness. John lit the same bedside lantern they had used the previous night. James sat on the edge of the bed and touched her hair while John stood like a dark guardian angel opposite him.

"We should never have allowed her to go first."

John's eyebrows rose. "Allowed...?"

"Point taken, chum."

Nikola appeared in the doorway. "Is everyone decent?"

John inhaled sharply and straightened. James stroked Helen's hair with his palm and didn't look up as Nikola and Nigel entered the room. Nigel cleared his throat before he spoke. "Nikola and I, we're going back to the lab to see if there's anything we might have missed. Anything that might... help. We wanted to make sure you two were, ah, good stayin' here with her."

"Of course." James stepped back so Nikola could take samples of her blood for examination. When he had what he needed, James put a hand on the Serbian's shoulder and squeezed. He nodded his thanks. "Godspeed, gentlemen. We'll keep you apprised of any changes."

Once they were gone, John pulled a chair close and took Helen's hand in both of his. He kissed her fingers and stared at her face, obviously on the razor's edge. James watched him and knew that if anything happened to Helen, they would be dealing with the loss of two members of their little group.

#

Helen could hear their voices, but she couldn't make out any words. Their tone was worried, though, and that made her wish she could reach out and let them know everything was going to be all right. She wasn't sick. At least not in any way she'd ever been sick before. A part of her made a parallel to pregnancy. Her body was going through a massive change, and it needed time to settle down before she started moving around.

She felt as if she was in a cloud. In one room she could hear and feel James and John. One of them was holding her hand, his rough fingers stroking the soft skin of her palm. But it wasn't the same room as it would have been if she was awake. Due to her unnatural state, she felt like she could see through time as well as space. She saw herself, kneeling on the edge of the bed as John entered her from behind. She saw James and John tangled in the sheets, heard her own gentle encouragement as they made love to each other. Oh, what a night it had been...

But she could also withdraw from that room, from her present self, and let herself float. The room grew smaller and more distant, John's voice growing hollow in her ears. She moved through a pale nothingness, adrift in memories. Years of studying that resulted in a pointless test score. Three pointless test scores, in fact, and a disapproving sigh from the administrator of the London College when she protested the unfairness of his decision.

She truly believed being a doctor was her destiny, and yet she was blocked at every turn. She'd never been warned that a penis was so necessary for medical work. She was prepared to defend her marks against any man taking the test with her. She knew she had surpassed each and every one of them, and yet they were the ones opening practices and taking patients while she was essentially patted on the head and told "Maybe in a few years."

Her father had done his best to comfort her, and apologized for what part his reputation had in her being turned away. She didn't blame him and knew that she would have been left out in the cold regardless. But despite his penitence, he was still reluctant to grant her request. He warned her that the bell he was about to sound could not be unrung; she would never be able to un-know what he was about to tell her. But, oh, how could she have prepared herself for the menagerie of wonders hidden beneath their home? The creatures whose welfare had been her father's life work, a calling that had led to his being ostracized by the medical community.

She drifted into a memory, a dark cavern underneath their home with arched passageways leading to habitats for their "guests." She saw through her own eyes, watching as she dissected a small salientia specimen to determine the cause of its death. The mask over her mouth and nose protected her from any miasma that might rise from the corpse, but also from the rank smell of wet animal that permeated the Sanctuary.

It was here that she had found peace and purpose. She didn't need the honorarium of "Doctor," and she didn't need to hang a shingle or do house calls. She wanted to _be_ a doctor, to be of service to those in need. She wanted to understand the grand mysteries of life. The Sanctuary afforded her everything she wanted and more, beyond her wildest dreams.

The memory dispersed and was replaced with another. She saw the foyer of their home, smiling as Élodie approached to help her out of her coat and bonnet. Helen's heart soared at the sight of her old friend, confidante... all the boys her father invited over, the sons of wealthy associates that left Helen feeling awkward, irritated and bored. Her rare intimate needs and desires were more than satisfied by the early-morning attentions of the sweet and caring Élodie.

She was five years Helen's senior, but Helen had to be the dominant one. Inviting Élodie behind the changing screen to assist with a particularly stubborn corset, or pulling down the blankets to invite Élodie to cuddle against her on a cold winter's morning. Helen had learned self-pleasure under Élodie's expert guidance.

"Brisk out today, miss," Élodie said in her charming French accent.

"Positively chilling. I may have to retire early." She looked over her shoulder, sharing a secret smile with her chambermaid.

Though her father never expressly said that he knew about her trysts with the maid, she was certain he suspected. The boys stopped visiting, and he ceased requesting her presence in the Sanctuary before a certain hour in the morning. Everything she wanted or needed was found under her father's roof.

For a while, anyway. The more she saw, the more she experienced, the more she became convinced she was missing out on something amazing. She needed schooling, education. With Élodie's help, Helen perfected a male disguise that would fool all but the most intensive examination. Afterward Helen moved to Oxford, with only brief forays back to the old homestead.

As her mind wandered, she thought of Élodie and what she might think of Messrs Druitt and Watson. Memories of the patient and kind chambermaid flashed by in quick succession; her full lips, her impossibly small hands with the fragile wrists, fluttering her eyelashes and ducking her chin so Helen's father wouldn't see her smile as she brought them tea.

"I simply must get home to see Élodie."

 _"Quiet. I think she said something."_

 _"Helen? Are you--"_

The voices faded again and Helen drifted deeper into the wilds of her mind. It was comfortable there. She felt safe. It was like the old days in her father's study, before she knew the truth about Abnormals and the world they were living in. It was when she still believed her father's lies that she could be whatever she wanted to be. But how could he have told the truth to a young girl with dreams of following in his footsteps? It would have been cruel.

She sat on the rug in front of the hearth, watching the flames dance through the wrought-iron screen. She folded her hands into fists and rested her chin on the fingers.

Perhaps her father had been cruel after all. Allowing her to waste so many years in the pursuit of a dream he knew would always be out of her reach. Or had he done it all on purpose? Could the man she adored with all her heart have misled her? Maybe his encouragement for her to study medicine was so he could fashion her into a potential successor to his Sanctuary.

No. She couldn't believe him capable of something so deceitful. He pushed her to follow her dreams and, when the world let her down, he was able to provide for her an alternative. She was a doctor, in spirit if not in name, and she was fulfilling her destiny.

"One day, father. I pray that you live long enough, but I swear one day I will be a true doctor."

 _"Helen?"_

She turned toward the voice.

#

Helen turned her head, her cheek pressing softly against James' smooth palm. Dawn took the storm with it when it broke, the sunlight coming through the window looking like pure gold as it fell on the corner of Helen's bed. In the wake of such a glorious morning it was easy to feel optimistic. John was lying on the _chaise longue_ with his collar undone. They were sleeping in shifts, ensuring one of them was always with Helen. A messenger carried messages between them and the boys back at the laboratory, both groups eagerly awaiting word of some change.

"John..." Helen's voice was barely audible, but James was certain he'd heard it. He turned to see that John was already sitting up.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. Her condition now appears to be more akin to a deep sleep than a coma, for which we can be grateful." He stroked her hair away from her forehead. Her fever had gone down and she had grown more restless. John had been concerned, but James was relieved to see any progress. Helen stilled, her hands folded against her chest in repose.

James pulled the blanket over her hands, touched her cheek again, and retreated from the bed. He faced John. "Thank you for allowing me to stay here with her. With the both of you."

John smiled. "Had I expelled you, I'd have caught the dickens from her when she woke. She adores you, James."

"Second only to you, it seems." James had been striving for a joke, but hit closer to the truth than was comfortable. He scratched his cheek and looked at Helen. "I'll investigate in the kitchen. There must be some clear broth or something I could heat--"

John put stopped James' escape with a hand on his shoulder. "You're not just here for her. I need you here also, James. Or have you forgotten all we discussed on those long walks?"

James finally met John's eyes. Hypothetical situations and scientific theories were all coming to light this weekend. He breathed deeply, catching John's familiar scent, and put mirrored John's hand on his shoulder. After a moment John moved to him and his lips parted. James was tense, nervous, and he nearly pulled away when John's upper lip brushed against his. Softly they kissed, free hands sliding around hips to pull each other closer.

James knew this was different than what they'd done before. Before they had always been able to discount it as horseplay. The one time it went farther, Helen had been there to make it more acceptable. When her hand was guiding them together, when it was her lips around them during frottage, it was easier to justify. Now there was no retreat, no denial.

They moved back to the couch and John sat, letting James tower over him. James straightened, looking down into John's dark eyes as he unfastened his trousers. John worked three buttons of his fly, his breath loud and rough as he fished his cock from within. Once James was free of his underwear, John took him into his mouth and sucked hungrily. James rolled his eyes back and put his hands in John's hair.

The unexpected fellatio didn't last long. James hunched his shoulders and spent himself in John's mouth, shuddering with his lips parted as John's fingers tenderly teased the base of his shaft. When he was released from John's mouth, James dropped to his knees before him. John was using his free hand to keep himself stiff. James touched his tongue to the pink tip and circled it, wetting it before he took it into his mouth.

John groaned, remembering how Helen had done the same thing the morning after their first night together. He pressed his back into the seat, lifted his hips and pressed his hand to the back of James' head. He came as quickly as James had, trembling as he felt James' tongue against the tip of his cock as he ejaculated, keeping his eyes open as James swallowed.

When James lifted his head, John bent and kissed him. They parted and James twisted at the waist to look at Helen. "Well, if she was merely waiting for an awkward moment to awaken, I believe we provided ample opportunity."

John chuckled and sagged against the chair in a state of exhausted repose. He rearranged his clothes so that he was decent and then draped one long arm across the back of the chair. James also adjusted his trousers and stood. James went to get them both some water, and John sat on the edge of the bed. He touched the collar of Helen's nightgown and smiled. Her eyes were moving behind their lids, dreaming. But of what? Or whom?

"If this is what it takes to get you to get some rest, then I welcome it." He bent down to kiss one eyebrow. "Sleep well, my love."

James called to him from the main room and John stood, joining him in the front hall. "I saw Nikola and Nigel approaching."

As soon as he'd spoken, the front door opened to admit Nikola. He was breathless, cheeks flush from exertion and the cold. The first thing out of his mouth was, "Any change?"

James allowed himself a smile. "She's fallen from near comatose to a slumber, so that's progress I suppose. What has thrown you into such a tizzy?"

Nikola reached into his pocket and produced a slide like a stage magician. "The sample of Helen's blood that I took last night. I began running tests on it immediately. It has properties that... I've never even imagined. I compared it to samples taken from some of the Abnormals from her father's Sanctuary and there's more in common between those two samples than between mine and Nigel's."

James didn't know whether to be thrilled or nauseated. "Are you saying she's become an Abnormal?"

"No." He held up a single finger. "I'm saying that it's a combination of the both."

"Human, but so much more." John used Helen's own words, speaking them in a reverent whisper. "What has the Source blood done to her? Can you determine that?"

"Not definitively, not with the sample I have. But I examined the cells under the microscope and it is truly... remarkable. They self-repair."

John looked at James, hoping for clarification. "What's extraordinary about that?"

Nikola sighed wearily and worked his neck from side to side. He closed his eyes and attempted to come up with a suitably simplistic way of saying what he wanted to say. "The cells have an instinct for self-preservation. Cells die, and they are replaced, and it all happens again and again and who knows how many times in a single person's life. Helen's cells preserve themselves and are only replaced when absolutely necessary. It's... extraordinary." He was breathless, eyes wide, eager for someone to realize the importance of what he was saying.

"I won't age."

The men turned to see Helen leaning against the wall, looking as if she'd been hung there by a hook. John moved to her side and she gratefully draped an arm across his broad shoulders. She looked at Nikola for confirmation.

"That's what you're getting at. My cells will rejuvenate themselves. Or rather if I do age, it will be extremely slowly."

Nikola nodded and released his breath. "Yes. At this rate you will outlive us all by... decades at least, and perhaps centuries at the outside."

"Good lord," Nigel whispered.

John rested his free hand on Helen's stomach. "You should be in bed."

"Please, John, I'll be fine. I've spent far too long lying about already."

James said, "From what Nikola just told us, I'd say you can spare the time."

She rolled her eyes and gestured at the divan. John took her over and helped her sit, while James retrieved a shawl and draped it around her shoulders to cover her nightwear. She looked wan, like a woman who had gone far too long without a good meal, but her eyes were vivid and alive.

"I'll admit, it was... disconcerting. Alarming. But I'll be fine. I feel like someone at the end of a long illness." She managed a convincing smile and gripped John's hand. "Thank you... all of you for taking care of me in my time of need. These past two years I've often wondered what I would have done without you at my side. Now I know I would never have survived."

She kissed John's knuckles. James looked away, uncertain on whom his jealousy was centered.

Helen eyed the men gathered around her. "Now, of course, the biggest question of all looms. You've seen what happened to me, and you know that the serum is... relatively safe. As long as we all have each other, no harm should come to anyone who wished to follow in my footsteps."

John and James eyed each other. Nikola crossed his arms over his stomach, one hand lifted to stroke his mustache as he considered. Nigel ran both hands through his hair.

Helen misinterpreted their silence. "Of course, there's no need for any of you to be as foolish as I was. If you--"

"No," James said. "No, i-it's a very large step, Helen. But I believe we've grown beyond a simple group of fellow students. We're connected, the five of us. The Five, as John so succinctly put it all those many hours ago."

"Right," Nigel said.

"All for one and one for all," Nikola said.

Helen's relief was visible on her face, and she tightened her grip on John's hand. "Splendid. Though I must warn you, there's no way of knowing if my experience is indicative of what will happen to you. The effects may be far more dramatic, or it may do nothing at all. Our own genetics hold the key to how we react to the Source blood."

Nigel furrowed his brow. "Genetics?"

"A monk and his pea pods." Nikola waved his hand to show it was far too complicated to get into. "I'll write you a primer on it later."

"You're a pip," Nigel sneered.

Helen cleared her throat, but she was smiling slightly. "If you're willing to throw the dice, gentlemen, there's just one question left to answer." She looked at each man standing in her parlor and raised an eyebrow. "Who will be going second?"


	5. Feathers & Wax

The morning after Helen revived, the group emptied out their borrowed classroom and moved the entire works to her flat. She cleared the furniture out of her parlor and set up cots that she borrowed from other tenants in the building. Nigel put black paper up in the windows to prevent prying eyes, and Helen hung lanterns to cast aside the gloom. Her front room, once merely drab, had become dreary and grim.

With Nikola's help, she prepared four phials of the serum and turned to face the men. They agreed that two would take the injection while the others watched over them. After a bit of bickering of who would be first, Helen made the decision that they would go in the order they had been brought into the group; John and James first and then, once they were up and about, Nigel and Nikola.

John and James used her bedroom to change out of their street clothes into pajamas. Helen slipped into the room after James left and embraced John. He kissed her temple, his breath ruffling her hair as he stroked her back. Finally she pulled back and looked into his eyes. "I'm so frightened for you, John."

"You fared well." He touched a curl that had fallen near her eye.

"But we've no way of knowing if I'm a unique case. My work with Abnormals and my upbringing... perhaps my father inadvertently prepared me for--"

John pressed his finger to her lips. "Helen..."

She kissed his fingertip and then wrapped her arms around him. He chuckled and she sighed.

"I'm being a pest. I'm very aware. But I simply must worry."

"I would have it no other way." He kissed her forehead and took her hand. They walked to the parlor together and Helen felt a chill as she remembered the funereal purposes for the parlor of most manor houses. She rubbed her arms to calm the gooseflesh that had erupted.

They arrived in the midst of a debate between Nikola and Watson. Watson shrugged, still in his dressing gown. "There's no reason to believe our reactions will be identical or even similar to Helen's. I would say there is a greater chance that one or more of us may have absolutely no reaction a'tall."

"Counting your chickens, Nikola?" John's lips were curled in a derisive grin.

Nikola shrugged. "Why would a serum derived from a single source cause a myriad of changes?"

"Mendel's pea pods, my boy. Genetics. The serum is a constant, and we are the variables. No matter the power of the Source blood, it can create nothing from whole cloth. The very small pieces of us which determined the shape of my nose, or the color of Helen's hair will determine what, if anything, the Source blood does to us."

Nikola sighed. "Well, I suppose immortality was too much to hope for." He scratched the back of his head and stepped back from the bed. John kissed Helen a bit too freshly for polite company, causing her to turn her head away from the other men to compose herself before she let him step away. He and James took to their beds and drew the blankets up to mid-chest.

Helen prepared a syringe. Nikola had one as well and nodded that he was ready. Helen returned his nod and knelt beside John. His arm was exposed, the crook of his elbow looking like marble. He smiled at Helen. "I do love you, my dear."

She kissed him and whispered, "And I love you, Mr. Druitt. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She pressed the needle against his arm and winced very slightly as it broke the skin. She sank the plunger, and John's body tensed. "Nigel..."

He moved to John's bedside and put both hands on his shoulders to hold him still. Once the syringe was empty, Helen withdrew the needle and breathed a sigh of relief. John's eyelids were heavy, the pupils wide behind them. Helen gripped his hand tightly, moving her other hand to stroke his hair. She remembered the tense, strange moments immediately after her own injection. Nikola's hand in hers had been an anchor to reality. When he attempted to turn his head, she forced him to hold eye contact.

"John? I'm here. I'm here with you, John."

She heard James thrashing in his bed and Nikola said her name. She nodded to Nigel that she could handle John, and he moved to help quiet James.

"Helen." John's voice was suddenly calm. It sounded as if he had just heard the most wonderful secret and couldn't wait to share it. "I feel..." His jaw suddenly clenched, his lips pulled back against them in a horrid grimace. His body rose off the bed and Helen pushed him back down. She glanced at Nikola and Nigel and saw they were similarly restraining James, whose feet were kicking underneath his blankets.

As suddenly as the attacks had begun, they ceased. John sighed peacefully as he passed out, and Helen touched his sweaty brow before she left him to check on James. Nikola stood up and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Remind me to slug Mr. Watson on the chin when it's my turn, hm?" He straightened his shirt and looked at John to make sure he was out as well. "It seems all we can do now is wait. Tea?"

#

Helen tidied up a bit. Since moving away from her father's house, her interests had been in the pursuit of knowledge and the occasional foray into the business of the Sanctuary. Now that she had at least a few uninterrupted hours, she found her home to be in a state of disarray. Élodie would have been scandalized to see her living in such filth. She cleaned the windows of her bedroom and gathered the bedclothes to be laundered. She hoped she wouldn't blush handing them over and assured herself the washerwoman had seen much worse in the course of her duties.

In the kitchen, Nikola was filling a notebook with shockingly small writing. "What could you possibly be writing now?"

He didn't slow his pen or look up. "We've no indication that this serum of yours will improve us, only that we will be changed. If something occurs where I am unable to speak or write in an understandable manner, there are just a few things I wish to put down on paper. For future generations."

"What a noble gesture."

"The world shouldn't be deprived of my genius should the worst occur."

Helen rolled her eyes and deposited her hamper by the door. Nigel was pacing nervously in the parlor. Helen remembered the comfort she gained from hearing John and James speak while they watched over her, so one of them would be with the 'patients' at all times until they woke. Helen was about to ask Nikola if he wanted something to eat when Nigel exclaimed from the parlor.

She arrived one step behind Nikola, eyeing the empty bed where John had lain. Nigel was standing near the divan, eyes wide.

"What happened?" Helen demanded. She had no idea how he could have gotten past her or Nikola; there was only one way into the room, and the closed windows were the only method of exit. "Where did he go?"

"Haven't a clue." Nigel sounded breathless. "I was checkin' on James like you told me. I heard a noise like... like... curtains tearing. I looked at the windows and when I looked at John he was just gone."

Nikola spun and disappeared into the house in search of their errant friend. Helen dropped to her knee by the bed and touched the blanket. Still warm. She was trembling, her heart thrumming painfully against her chest. Could he be gone? Simply... gone? She forced herself to swallow, her mouth painfully dry as she rose to look at James.

"Did you observe anything before the strange noise?"

"He was runnin' a fever, but James said same thing happened to you. I-I didn't think it was important."

Nikola returned. "No sign of him anywhere in the flat. The door was still bolted from the inside." He sneered at Nigel. "How could you let this happen?"

"Let this--"

"Be quiet!" Helen snapped. "Nikola, there is nothing Nigel could have done. It's clear that John's body reacted to the Source blood in an unforeseen manner. If you're to assign blame to anyone, it shall be upon my head." She raised an eyebrow, challenging him. Nikola put his hands on his hips and averted his eyes. "As I thought."

They stood in silence around the foot of John's mysteriously empty bed, unsure of what their next move would be. When Helen spoke again, her voice was subdued.

"We must focus our attention on James. We must be certain we do not... lose him as well."

"Right," Nigel agreed. "Helen... about John... if there was--"

She held up a hand to silence him. "There's no cause for that. We have no cause to believe John is completely lost to us; he is simply missing."

"Who is missing?"

Helen turned to James, who had just pushed himself up in his bed. She moved to his side and put a hand on his arm, steadying him as his arm trembled under his weight. "James? Don't strain yourself. Remain still. How do you feel?"

"I have the most atrocious headache." He opened his eyes, blinked once, and squinted against even the dim light of the parlor. "You said someone was missing."

Nikola sniffed, and Helen wavered. "Don't concern yourself with that. Concentrate on feeling better."

He smacked his lips together and, before he could ask, Nigel delivered a glass of water to him. "Good man. Thank you." He drank a good portion, touched the cuff of his sleeve to his lips, and furrowed his brow. "Seawater."

Helen and Nikola both looked at Nigel, who blinked in surprise. "What? I got that from the pitcher in the kitchen."

"No, not this. This is marvelous. There's a scent of... seawater in the room. Why?"

Helen blinked and tried to pick up the scent. She looked at Nikola, who shook his head. "We don't smell anything, James. Perhaps you're simply suffering from a side effect of the injection. The Source blood may have affected your--"

Nigel interrupted. "I smell it."

She looked at Nigel. He was standing by John's bed, bent slightly at the waist. He pointed at the blankets. "It's here. It smells like seawater right here. Kind of a brackish scent."

Helen moved at the same time Nikola did. They inhaled and, once she was trying to find it, she detected the scent. "Dear God. It smells like the--"

"The Thames," James said at the same time she did. He massaged his brow.

Nikola looked at Helen. "Why would your parlor smell of the Thames?"

"That's precisely what I intend to find out." She stood and went directly to her wardrobe, withdrawing a heavy coat. She wrapped herself in it and, as a secondary thought, took an extra coat and a pair of John's boots. She was still doing the last buttons of her cloak when she returned to the parlor. She was glad to see James was already livelier and she smiled to him before she spoke.

"I'm going to investigate. The smell can't be a coincidence."

"I'll go with you," James said.

"No. Nikola, Nigel, your task is to ensure James is completely healthy. Find what, if anything, has happened to James."

Nigel tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe he got enhanced smelling. Certainly has the nose for it."

James twisted at the waist to glare at him, and Nigel smiled. Helen felt confident leaving the boys to themselves and left the building. There was no carriage on the street, so she walked toward the river. The faint traces of odor she smelled in her parlor were stronger now, and she was certain that somehow some faint puff of seawater made it into her flat.

"The Thames, the Thames," she muttered to herself. So much blasted ground to cover and nary a carriage in sight to rent. She stood on the corner and caught her breath. She closed her eyes and tapped John's boots against her thigh. "Think, Helen."

She remembered lying in the grass with her dress above her waist and John between her thighs. Laughing breathlessly at the words he spelled with the tip of his tongue as she pulled up the grass on either side of her by the fistful. The newly-bloomed flowers, the thick green grass that enveloped her like a luxurious cushion. Her eyes opened and she decided she would check the places where she and John spent time first. The smell couldn't have been random, which implied there was purpose behind it. It wouldn't point her to some random spot along the four kilometers of the Thames.

Helen hailed a carriage and directed it to the river. She spent the ride fretting, worrying the material of John's coat with both hands. What if he wasn't there? What if she searched the river from source to mouth and came up empty? As she grew closer to the river the more certain she was that this was a fool's errand.

The day was bright and only slightly cold; soon spring would be fully in bloom. People on the street carried on with their lives as if it was an ordinary day. Helen realized she had left home without a bonnet or gloves and knew she looked a fright. There was nothing to be done about her hair, but she folded her hands together in her lap so they wouldn't be as noticeably nude. She told herself she had been prepared for a tragedy, but to lose John was untenable. If her hubris had caused his death, she would never forgive herself.

The carriage dropped her near the building where she and the others had done so many of their experiments. She gathered her skirts in one hand and ran across the courtyard, ignoring the looks she received from other students as she ran pell-mell toward the river. She knew she was utterly unladylike at the moment, with her hair wild and not a touch of makeup on her face. John's boots and coat swung from her arm like evidence of some late night rendezvous.

So certain was she that her mission was pointless that, when she saw the man sitting on the shore with his face buried in his hands, she thought him a fisherman who might be able to help her. "Sir! Sir, have you been here long?"

He removed his hands and twisted at the waist to look at her. It was John. Pale, drawn, appearing exhausted, but definitely him and definitely alive. Helen dropped the boots and jacket in the grass and clapped both hands over her mouth at the sight of him. She closed the distance between them at a run, arriving just as he got to his feet. She leapt into his arms and kissed him. Discretion was a foreign term to her as she clung to him, her feet lifting off the ground as he spun her.

When he finally lowered her to the ground, he touched her face and ran his eyes over her features. "I have spent the past hour in a... daze. Unsure of where I was or what had happened. I remained where I was in the hopes that somehow you might..." He suddenly broke into a smile. "You found me. Well done, Helen. Well done, indeed."

"With James' help."

His eyes widened. "So James is also well? Splendid! Oh, Helen." He kissed her again and Helen sagged against his body. She felt the tears running down her face and he brushed his lips over the tracks when he finally allowed her to breathe.

"How on earth did you get here?" She escorted him back to the clothes she had discarded.

John bent to pick them up, gratefully wrapping himself in the coat before standing like a crane to put on one boot and then the other. When he straightened, he had to grab her arm to keep from falling. "I honestly haven't the slightest idea. I was lost in a haze, memories and thoughts, dreams all blending into one." He looped an arm around hers and they walked slowly across the field. "I could hear voices in your flat. I focused on you, and I revisited a few... memorable moments we had shared."

Helen dipped her chin.

"There was a moment of utter disorientation, as in a dream of falling, and then a flash of color, and I found myself here. I wasn't entirely certain I was truly conscious until I splashed my face with water from the river. After that I knew I would be best served staying put until I was discovered. And here you are."

Helen turned and pressed her face to his shoulder as if confirming he was really there. "Truly remarkable, John. Perhaps you've gained some sort of teleportation ability. Moving from one place to another in the wink of an eye."

"Have you ever heard of a creature with such abilities?"

"Never. But we can't dispute the evidence in front of us."

John took her hand in his and she squeezed it tightly, unwilling to let him go. "When we return to my flat, we'll warm you up and then examine you to see just what has happened. If it's something you can control, it would be a tremendous asset."

"Not to mention the fact it would be very handy in preserving your reputation."

Helen frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Your suitor can kiss you goodbye at your stoop..." He brought he hand to his lips. "...and then he can be waiting in your boudoir. And the busybodies peeking through their curtains would be none the wiser."

"Cheeky," Helen chided, but the thought thrilled her. No more sneaking, no more ducking into closets just to be alone. They could actually go their separate ways and find each other in private. The possibilities were intriguing.

"For now, it would be best to consider it a singular event until we're able to confirm it can be duplicated."

"Very well, but a man can dream." He smiled down at her and then sighed. "I will be glad to be back in your home. The day is frightfully chill for a man in naught but a sleeping gown."

"We'll be there in a trice. Perhaps the carriage that brought me is still about. I--"

Helen's words died in her throat as the oxygen was suddenly sucked from the space around her. She clutched at her throat with one hand, aware of an instantaneous dimming of the lights. She pulled away from John and hit her knees, choking as she drew in a great lungful of air. Vertigo made the solid ground under her knees and hands bend and sway. She blinked until the world steadied itself, and John fell back against the wall with a heavy thud.

"Mother of--"

"What on--"

"Where..."

Helen coughed and felt someone take her arms to help her to her feet. She looked into James' familiar face, his eyes wide with amazement as he held her. Nikola and Nigel were checking on John's condition. His eyes were as wide as James', and he looked moments away from passing out. Helen saw her own hand trembling with palsy and clutched it to her chest. "Bloody hell."

Nigel looked at John, at Helen, and then shrugged. "Well. Guess she found 'im."

#

It was dark by the time they finished their examinations. James' headache abated, and he spoke of thinking more clearly than he had in ages. While his transformation was certainly intriguing, even he was unable to tear his curiosity away from what happened to John. They inundated him with questions that he answered to the best of his ability, but finally Helen insisted they allow him rest.

"It's nearly dark. Nikola, Nigel... if you would like to take your turn, we should get underway."

Nigel looked at John. "You think he'll be up for keepin' an eye on us?"

"James and I can handle it while he rests. James?" He nodded.

Nikola cleared his throat. "Wait for tomorrow if you want, Nigel, but I've been waiting for this too long to be sheepish now. Where's that British pluck you're always bragging about?"

Nigel gave in. "As long as Helen and James are all right with it, I'm game."

Helen escorted John to her bedroom and tucked him under the blankets. "Rest here. No more wandering the Thames, do you hear me?"

"Yes, mum."

She winked and kissed the corner of his mouth before she dimmed the lantern and returned to the parlor. Nikola had removed his jacket and shirt, leaving him in trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. "No gown for you, Nikola?"

"I prefer to sleep in the nude, so if you would prefer that--"

"Hardly. James?" He assisted her in preparing another set of injections. Nikola sat on the bed James had so recently occupied and presented his arm to Helen. She crouched in front of him, ignoring the sly smile under his mustache and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as she prepared the site. Behind her she heard James doing the same with Nigel.

"All right. We..." The words died in Helen's throat when she saw Nikola's expression. It was somewhere between amazement and horror, his lips parting as he stared down at his arms like they belonged to someone else. "Nikola? What's wrong?"

"Get away from me..."

Nigel grunted in pain, and James struggled to hold him down. Helen rose and backed away from Nikola. He rose, pushing the bed out of the way as he crossed both arms over his abdomen. He and Helen stood, moving apart like matching ends of two magnets. Nikola's fingers curled into fists and he suddenly gasped in pain.

"Helen..." James was struggling to keep Nigel from hurting himself as he thrashed on the bed.

"A bit busy here, James."

Nikola was panting in an almost animal manner, lips puffing out with each sharp exhale. He took one step forward and Helen matched it with a backward step. "Don't."

"Helen are you... frightened?" He suddenly was in front of her, gripping her throat with one impossibly strong hand. Helen shouted in surprise and twisted out of his grip. Nikola snatched at her and tore the shoulder of her gown. James got to his feet, still recovering from the changes he had undergone. Nikola swung an arm as if swatting a fly and James tumbled over Nigel's bed. Helen grabbed a paperweight from the bookcase and wrapped her fingers around it. She swung her arm as she spun and let go of the block.

The sharp edge caught Nikola in the forehead and he stopped where he stood. A trickle of blood appeared and trickled slowly over his eyebrow. Helen took advantage of his daze and put her hands on his shoulders. She drove her knee into his groin and he collapsed like a reed in a stiff breeze. She hauled his dead weight onto the cot and tried to catch her breath before crawling to where James had landed.

"What in blazes happened?" he groaned.

"I believe Nikola's changes are far more dramatic than ours." She touched James' cheek, but he gently pushed her hand away and patted it to let her know he was relatively fine. She helped him to stand and brushed off the back of his clothes before she looked at Nigel. He still appeared restless, but none the worse for wear.

"Alarming," James said.

"Quite."

"Especially that he would attack you, of all people."

Helen blinked at him. "Why me 'of all people'?"

James straightened his waistcoat. "Because he's mad for you, Helen." He looked up and saw the surprise writ across her face. "Oh, come now. Surely you're more observant than that."

She shook her head, dismissing the idea so she could focus on the problem at hand. "Whatever happened to Nikola, he's disturbingly strong. We'll have to restrain him before he wakes."

James sighed. "Right. I'll see if I can find some rope."

#

"I can see so much now. Understand so much more than I ever imagined." Nikola recovered just as Helen finished securing him to her dining room chair. His muscles tensed, pulling at the restraints to test their strength without actually trying to escape. Helen ignored his monologue and ensured the ropes would hold before she backed away from him. John had woken after the tussle and stood with James at her opposite shoulder. Nigel was conscious but, as yet, hadn't developed any 'symptoms.'

Nikola smiled at the quartet of friends. "Is this jealousy? You all got gifts, but I received the grandest reward of all." He looked at Nigel. "I don't mean to rub it in. I'm certain yours will be along any minute now." He winked, and Nigel sneered.

"What, precisely, is your gift?" John asked.

James made a noise and shrugged. "Well, I'd say it's quite obvious."

"Enlighten us, James," Nikola said with a superior sneer.

"The enhanced strength, the pallor, the way he's eyeing stain of blood of the collar of Helen's nightgown..." She touched the spot in question, attained when she had moved the unconscious Nikola into the chair. "The injection affected us all in different ways because of our relatively mundane lineage. I believe some dormant vestige in his body chemistry responded to the Source blood and was awoken. Like responded to like. Helen, gentlemen, I believe our friend Nikola had just become the first vampire of the Victorian age."

Helen flattened a hand to her chest. "Good Lord."

Nikola laughed. "Mundane lineage. I'm glad you said it and not me, James." He stretched his neck and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Now that you mention it I am feeling a bit peckish. Anything to drink in the house, Helen?" His eyes darkened and John took a step forward to block Helen with his body.

"Are we quite certain these bonds will hold him?" John met Nikola's amused gaze without blinking.

Nikola raised an eyebrow as if in challenge.

"They'll have to do, for now." James moved closer to Nikola. "You wouldn't hurt us, would you? Knowing that Helen would never forgive you."

Nikola and John both looked at Helen, who pressed her lips into a thin line and fought the urge to hide her face.

"Whatever we are, we are together." James examined the rest of the group. "It was a group effort that brought us here and we will not turn on one another now. Agreed?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Well, there's the small matter of..." He gestured at Nikola. "I mean, he's a vampire, in't he? He's gotta take a nip at some point."

Nikola inhaled and straightened slightly in his chair. "If you're offering, Nigel, I think I'll hold off for a richer vintage."

"We'll take care of you, Nikola. So long as we have your word that you'll harm no one."

He smiled and let the moment stretch out before he replied. "The knowledge and information have lit up in my brain are far too precious for me to squander them by becoming a common murderer. I can hardly change the world from within a prison cell. I'll get sustenance elsewhere."

James glanced at Helen, waiting for her to give the word before he withdrew a penknife and stepped behind Nikola's chair. Once he was freed, Nikola stood and stretched his arms and shoulders.

"Much better. Thank you, James, and my apologies for the... incident earlier. I wasn't in my right mind."

"So long as it doesn't happen again, dear boy." He made a point of letting the light shine off his blade before he returned it to his pocket.

They stood in Helen's parlor, like five points of a star with Helen at the head. Nigel and Nikola were still in their nightclothes, while Helen, James and John were mostly dressed for polite society. The only light came from a pair of lanterns on the desk that made Helen's loose hair shine like gold.

"Now what?" Nigel said.

Helen shrugged. "Now we see what exactly we're capable of."


	6. The Lotos-Eaters

A woman's shriek drew Helen and James to the street, and they rushed to calm the poor woman who was having a fit in front of their stoop. A suit of clothes was standing next to her, empty sleeves waving in an attempt to calm the poor pedestrian who was beating the area where the head should have been with both hands.

"Good heavens," was all James said as he threw his coat over Nigel's head and ushered him up the stairs to the front door. Helen put an arm around the unsuspecting witness of Nigel's gift finally manifesting and convinced her it was a trick of the light that made the gentleman appear headless.

A group of concerned citizens took care of the woman and Helen took the opportunity to disappear behind closed doors once again. The past week had been full of complaints from the neighbors. It was impossible to have four men tramping to and fro in such a small apartment without raising some commotion. Helen had been accused of running an unauthorized boardinghouse, and several whispered comments implied she was running some sort of brothel for "unnatural desires." She had calmed the fear of her landlord on several occasions but it was becoming clear that they would eventually have to find alternate quarters.

She locked the door and drew the curtains. Nikola had taken to sleeping in the parlor, avoiding sunlight as much as possible. His senses were heightened, and direct sunlight hurt his eyes. He assured them he just needed a little adjustment period and he would be right as rain. He was perched in the armchair and remained utterly still as James ushered Nigel to the divan and sat him down. Nikola opened his eyes.

"What's the ruckus?"

"Nigel's gift has finally shown its face. Or rather, taken his." James removed his jacket and Nikola's interest was finally piqued. He leaned slowly forward and tried to see any hint of their friend's head. Helen squinted against the dark but could only see the wainscoting behind the couch.

"Astounding." Helen tentatively reached out and twitched when her fingers met something solid. "Nigel? Can you hear us?"

After a moment, they heard a timid, "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Just tryin' to... wrap my head 'round this." His sleeves came up, showing only hollow tunnels where his arms should have been. "I can't even tell if I'm blinkin' or not."

James was struggling to maintain his calm when Helen could tell it was all he could do not to grab his equipment and begin testing.

"Can you... stop?" Helen asked.

Color swarmed in the space above Nigel's open collar and, a second later, it focused into his familiar face. Helen smiled and clipped his chin with her knuckle.

"There you are. Nice to see you again, Mr. Griffin."

He exhaled and looked down at his hands, which had also reappeared. "Nice to be seen."

"How did it happen?"

"I was stepping out of the carriage and thought there were an awful lot of people about. I was tryin' to decide if I could get inside without someone noticin' and causing problems for Helen. Then the lady cried out and... and..."

"So perhaps it's a conscious effort," James suggested.

Nigel blinked in and out of sight a few times and then tugged on the lapel of his jacket. "Looks like clothes are a bit out of my reach, but otherwise... it's a relief to know I can control it." He looked at Nikola. "Looks like you're not the only one who got something out of a penny dreadful."

Nikola sniffed. "Well, what do you know... the little twerp might be useful after all."

Helen smiled at the good-natured ribbing, but she couldn't help latch on to what Nikola had said. With John's teleportation, James' unparalleled intelligence, Nikola's strength and knowledge, and now Nigel's invisibility, they were a force to be reckoned with. They were quite possibly the most powerful people in England, if not the world. What could stand against the five of them united to a goal?

The question was... what would that goal be?

#

Helen woke to the soft petals of a rose brushing her cheek. She rolled onto her back and smiled at John before he bent to kiss her awake. She pushed the blankets back and curled her fingers in the tail of his shirt. "Come to bed," she whispered.

"No, I'm much too energized for sleep."

"Who spoke of sleep?" Helen pushed herself up, the blankets gathered around her waist. John was still fully dressed and she could smell sunshine on his skin. "And where have you been, my love?"

"Most recently a sojourn in France. It was a game I played." He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through her hair. Helen closed her eyes and moved her head under his touch like a contented kitten. "I viewed a photograph taken in Madrid, and wandered the streets until I found an image of Rio de Janeiro. And so on and so forth. Oh, the places I have been..."

"Your practice will suffer." She took his hand and kissed the knuckles. She wanted him, desperate for his touch, but she wasn't willing to act wanton.

"Choke the law." He kissed her forehead. "We've far more important pursuits to attend. Have there been any developments here in my absence?"

Helen nodded. "Nigel can turn himself invisible at will."

John raised an eyebrow. "Well! It seems we've become quite the gang of misfits."

"Save for me, at any rate."

"What do you mean?"

"Longevity? Hardly on the same mythical level as invisibility or teleportation."

"But the wonders you will live to see! Our abilities will allow us to push the boundaries of mortality, but once we've lived our allotted years we'll pass on. You'll have a chance to see wonders we can't even imagine." He cupped her cheek, stroking it with the pad of his thumb.

Helen blinked and looked away from him. It felt so unfair, that her gift merely meant she would live to attend the funerals of everyone she cared for. James had tested everyone's blood and only Helen's had the unique ability to preserve her youth. Helen believed that Nigel would be protected from the rigors of ageing when he was invisible, but he would still grow old one day. And Nikola gained immortality due to his vampirism, so there was a chance she wouldn't be alone. But oh, what she would trade to have John by her side for the surely long centuries ahead.

"I don't regret the decision to inject the serum. I only wish there was a way to share my gift with those closest to me." She touched his face so he would know precisely what she meant.

"As marvelous as my gift has been, I would trade it in an instant for yours. Growing old but not gray by your side. It would have been marvelous."

They touched their foreheads together and Helen turned her mouth to his. John kissed her and placed the rose on the nightstand. Helen scooted across the mattress and pulled John on top of her. Their talk of mortality had dispelled his argument for not making love to her. Helen parted her lips in anticipation of a kiss, but he surprised her by kissing her throat instead.

As her nightgown was removed and he kissed her secret places, Helen ran her fingers through his hair and let his weight press her into the mattress. One day she would lose him; she wasn't going to waste a moment of their time together.

 _Gather ye rosebuds,_ she thought as she eased her legs apart and he sank down between them.

#

Helen jumped when she heard the door close, turning to see who it was just as James entered the parlor. He unfastened his cloak and hung it on the coat rack. "Apologies, Helen. I should have knocked."

"It's as much your flat as it is mine these days." She turned back to her calculations. "I'm glad you're here. Would you mind double-checking my results?"

"Not at all." He joined her at the lab table that had taken the place of her tea table and armchairs. Helen made another notation in her journal and folded her hands together as she waited for James' conclusion. He looked at the slide under the lens, straightened, and stared at the wall for a moment before he looked at her. His voice was tender but firm. "What, praytell, are you doing?"

Helen bristled at his tone. "Experimentation. It's what the Five is all about, is it not?"

James stepped away from the microscope. "I wouldn't think you would fall for their madness, Helen."

"Whose madness?"

He waved dismissively toward the window. "Nikola, Nigel, John. Gallivanting all over the globe, harassing pedestrians in Trafalgar Square... the power has gone to their heads. And now they've convinced you of this."

Helen furrowed her brow. "No one has convinced me of anything. What in blazes are you talking about?"

James' voice became sing-song. "'Only the chosen left alive, immortals all... the holy Five.' You've not heard Nikola singing that delightful little tune? John mentioned the possibility that an injection of your blood could bestow your gift on the rest of us. It's macabre, sharing blood." He shuddered and shook his head. "And now you're actually doing it."

"They asked me nothing," Helen whispered. She was looking down at her hands, ashamed at herself for having drawn James' ire and furious at him for acting so superior to her. "I came to this conclusion on my own."

"For God's sake, why?"

Helen snapped at him. "Because perhaps the thought of watching the four of you die is too much for me to bear, James Watson." She composed herself and quietly added, "Some of you more than others."

James stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Ah, Helen. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kissed her gently, a brief passing of his lips across hers to show his remorse. "Heightened intelligence does nothing for tact. When Nikola spoke of this, I found the idea so reprehensible that I jumped to the wrong conclusion."

"Reprehensible?" Helen was confused. "Why?"

"Precisely the reasons you listed. To live forever is to watch everyone who matters to you die. After a certain point it would become simply unbearable. I've not said anything to you because I didn't want to... well." He shook his head and released her arms. "I regret that of the gifts granted to this group, yours seems to have been the most double-edged."

"Oh, James." She put her hands under his arms, flattening them to his chest to pull him back against her. She closed her eyes when he covered her hands with his, and she lightly kissed the back of his neck. There was a sound like a sudden sharp intake of breath and then Helen sensed they were being watched. She opened her eyes and saw John standing beside them.

"Blimey!" Helen released James and took a step back, and James retreated as well.

John smiled. "Am I interrupting something?"

"I was merely... comforting..." James cleared his throat.

John laughed. "I've never quite seen that position used for comfort before, but all right." He shifted his focus to Helen. "I've just returned from a jaunt to the Sandwich Islands. A gorgeous little archipelago and the perfect remedy this abysmal excuse for summer. I thought I would see if you wished to join me for a return trip. I scouted a secluded little beach hideaway where I'm certain we would be undisturbed."

Helen cleared her throat and glanced at James. He sensed her need and lowered his chin in agreement. "Actually, John, there's something I needed to discuss with you. Do you fancy a stroll?"

"As you wish, Helen."

Helen moved to the closet and withdrew her hat and gloves. As she dressed, John eyed the experiments she had underway and let his gaze linger on James. Helen resisted the urge to step between the men in the hopes that inaction would let the tension of this moment fizzle. When she was ready, John broke away from his stand-off with James and offered her his elbow.

They walked out of the building and to the street. Spring had ended and summer had them in its grip. Ladies carried parasols to protect their skin from the sun, and the gentlemen wore lightweight jackets against the heat.

As they walked toward the Thames, Helen explained the tests she had done with her blood and the results she'd gotten from mixing it with a sample of his. John's joviality faded as he listened and he stopped her, moved her into the shade of a building, and cupped her face. "Oh, Helen. Haven't you wondered why I've been going to all these places? Italy and Greece and Paris? It's because I wanted to spend every spare moment seeing the world with you. From the moment James determined I didn't share your gift of longevity, I have dreaded the day when we would part." He smiled and kissed her.

"Does this mean you'll do it?" She was still breathless from the kiss, relieved that he was agreeable to the idea.

"Yes." He laughed. "Yes, as soon as you're certain the process is safe and it will work, yes."

Helen smiled. "Then what are we waiting for, Mr. Druitt?"

#

John remained conscious following the injection of Helen's blood, though he claimed a bit of mild discomfort and nausea. They waited one full day before testing another sample to see if the procedure had worked, and James confirmed it showed properties identical to Helen's blood. John was now the third immortal of their group. Helen extended the offer to James again, well aware she was only asking for her own selfish wants, but he refused. Nigel, to everyone's surprise, also refused.

"One lifetime's enough for me, fellows. But ask me again in a few decades." He winked at Helen when he said that, and she smiled and squeezed his hand.

At Helen's urging, they returned to their studies in order to not draw attention to themselves. Her concern proved prescient one morning when she was returning from a morning auditing a class on Darwin's theories. She was so lost in thought that she only noticed the man because he seemed so incongruous to her memory of the neighborhood. He was out of place in a threadbare blazer and a pageboy cap, pacing in front of a recessed doorway. She would have imagined he was waiting for someone if not for the fact that he kept casting glances toward her building.

"May I help you with something?" She was almost directly behind him, so she didn't see his face before she spoke. When he turned, her eyes flashed. "Adam Worth!"

"Ms. Magnus, what a pleasant--"

"Be quiet. This is beyond the pale, Adam." She could feel the blood rouging her cheeks. "Stalking me to my home? Lying in wait?"

Adam hunched his shoulders and held his hands out to her palm-up. "You'd have done the same in my position, Helen. You and your boyos are definitely doing something that can't stand the light of day. All I'm offering is an extra pair of hands, an extra brain. I know the kind of genius you have locked up in that tower o' yours. Can't imagine what you'll be cooking up but it's bound to be the likes of which the world has never seen. Right now you're tinkering and toiling in the shadows. With my help, we could change the world."

"We've no interest in your help, Mr. Worth. Good day."

Adam's petitioning smile turned into a snarl, his brows knitting together and his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth. "Fine. But as important as your work is, know that every significant scientific advancement is greeted by a howl of horror. Suppose someone were to alert the authorities to what you were up to."

Helen's expression darkened. "Should the law be alerted, they would find an hysterical woman who discovered a man peeping on her private chambers. Do you fancy yourself winning that debate, Mr. Worth?" She raised an eyebrow as he withdrew a step. "The business of my friends and I is of no concern to you, or anyone else. Of that you can be assured. Good day, sir."

Before Adam could leave or continue their argument, a slender arm snaked around his throat and a second grabbed the lapel of his shirt. Helen stepped back out of sheer surprise, eyes widening as she realized Nikola had appeared with nary a sound to catch them both unawares. His cheek was pressed against the side of Adam's head, his lips beside Adam's ear. Helen was fortunate Adam couldn't see that Nikola's eyes were dark and his fangs were extended.

"I would listen to her, Mr. Worth. Care killed the cat."

"But satisfaction brought it back," Adam grunted, obviously terrified but unwilling to back down.

Nikola's demonic eyes twitched toward Helen. "What do you say? You're the one who gives the thumbs up or down, senator. Shall we give him a taste of what we've been working on?" He touched one fang with his tongue and Helen fought a surge of revulsion.

"Release him this instant, Nikola."

He reluctantly complied, his face returning to normal before Adam turned to face him. Adam tugged on his jacket, straightening his clothes with a huff of indignation. "You're all mad. The lot of ya. Mark my words." He stalked away, glancing back to make sure they weren't giving chase.

Nikola adjusted his collar and tugged on his bowtie before turning to Helen. "My apologies, Helen. Nigel and I have been keeping an eye on him since he arrived yesterday evening. We were curious to see what he had in mind, but once you confronted him."

"He's not wrong, you know." Helen started toward home and Nikola fell into step beside her. "With our combined strengths we could be altering the course of humanity. We hold the opportunity to change the way people see the world around them. And we're squandering ourselves in laboratories and classrooms."

Once inside, Helen found Nigel sitting at the dining room table with a small stack of gold coins in front of him. "What is this?"

"Funding." He winked and held up a sovereign. "Thought we might start paying you rent, miss."

Helen slapped his hand, sending the coins to sing along the floor. John and James came out of the parlor at the sound of Nigel's shout.

"What's happened?" James demanded.

Nigel pointed at Helen. "She's gone mad!"

"Children." Helen stormed between John and James and into the parlor. She tore down the sheets that had covered the windows since that night when she had been carried into her own home as still as death. Summer sunlight streamed in and she tossed the sheets onto her divan as she turned to face the men.

"We've wasted enough time, gentlemen. Nigel, you've become a common pickpocket. And John, the world traveler. What good is being the smartest man in the world, James, if you use it cloistered in this room going over your own journals?"

James cleared his throat, chastised. "What would you have us do, Helen? Reveal our talents to the world and hire ourselves out to the highest bidder?"

"Nothing so crass. But we owe it to the world and ourselves to do something with our newfound abilities. I came to Oxford to better assist my father with his work at the Sanctuary. I've achieved that. I'll have to reveal what we've done to him eventually, and there's no sense in putting it off further. I'll keep this flat here at Oxford, of course, and continue my studies as I'm able. But I'll be returning home to London at week's end. If any of you would care to join me, you will be more than welcome. We've spent far too much time resting on our laurels. The time has come for action."

She walked out of the room without waiting for their response, leaving them to look at each other and debate whether or not they would be joining her.

#

John had been hesitant to try the 'female dominant' position in bed, but Helen soon convinced him of its merits. She straddled him with the blankets gathered in the small of her back, moving her hips in a slow rhythm. He was gazing at her with a reverence she found incredibly arousing, and she guided his hand to her cleavage. He pressed his palm to her sternum and she closed her eyes, rolling her head back as she felt him move inside of her. He slid his hand up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck, massaging gently. He tightened his other hand on her hip, squeezed, and Helen groaned with pleasure.

"I've noticed you haven't asked if I'm coming..."

Helen's lips curled into a lazy smile. "We tend to end up at the same place at the same time regardless."

John laughed. "Not that... London." His breathing was ragged. "You haven't asked if I'm joining you when... you leave in two days' time."

Helen opened her eyes and continued to match his rhythm. "Part of me... felt it was a foregone conclusion. Part of me feared hearing that it wasn't." She flattened her hand against his chest. "But since the matter has been breached..."

John put his arm around her and pulled, using her as leverage to pull himself up. Helen's breasts flattened against his chest, he moved his hand into her hair and kissed her passionately. Helen took his tongue into her mouth and tightened around him, moving her hips faster. His cock throbbed and she knew his orgasm was close. She focused herself on his pleasure, pressing her weight down onto him until she felt his climax. She gasped into his mouth and rolled her head back until it was balanced in his palm. He kissed her throat and stroked her back.

"Where you go, Helen Magnus, I shall follow."

Helen wet her lips, her thighs closed vice-like around his hips. She hadn't climaxed, but she was too overwhelmed with relief at knowing John would stay by her side to care. She ran her hands down his shoulders, to his spine, and kissed his ear before leaning back. He smiled at her, and she kissed him as his hand moved between their bodies.

Her breath caught in her throat and she forced herself to keep her eyes open, to watch him as he touched her. He used the tips of two fingers on her clitoris and Helen gripped the hairs at the base of his skull as she arched her back to press tighter against him. He suddenly lifted his head and said, "Helen... hold that thought."

"Hm?" She was so close she could barely acknowledge she was being spoken to. He took her hand and moved it so that she was touching herself. Then with a flash of blinding light, he was gone. Helen tumbled forward into the now-empty bed, hand cupping her mound, eyes wide and lips parted in shock and confusion. "J-John...?"

Another gust and John's weight fell against her from behind. She gasped as he guided his cock forward, wrapping her free arm around the pillow as he thrust his full length into her.

"James says hello," John growled, and Helen let herself tumble over the brink. Her entire body trembled as she came, her fingers flexing in the sheets as she bucked against him. He brushed her hair out of the way and kissed the back of her neck, and Helen sobbed with relief, pleasure and a thousand other emotions she didn't care to name. Her cheeks were burning and she was sore, and her lips curled into a smile at her lover's new trick.

"Don't get too fond of that, John. A lady may decide to turn to something a bit more reliable." She bit her bottom lip as he kissed along her shoulders and down her back. He settled on top of her, his arms around her waist and his hands covering the hair between her legs. Helen pressed her hips into his, sighing happily at how well they fit together.

"Do you think they will come?"

"I've certainly given James something to think about."

Helen blushed. "To London, John. To London."

He kissed her neck. "We'd be lost without you, Helen. Where you lead, we will follow."

Helen squirmed underneath him, tightening her muscles around his cock as his fingers massaged her mound. Her post-coital bliss and her relief at knowing John - and the others - were joining her return to London and the Sanctuary. She fell asleep with John still nuzzling her skin, feather-light kisses across her skin and making her shiver.

#

On Friday morning, a large coach was waiting outside Helen's home. The coachman loaded their bags onto the luggage compartment while Helen waited to board. She was dressed like a woman out for a pleasant country drive, wearing a hat with a wide brim that dipped down over her right eye. A veil of Chantilly lace shielded her face from the coachman as he tipped his hat to her. She returned the nod with a dip of her chin, and John offered his hand to help her inside. She boarded, followed by the men. John sat to her right and James to her left, with Nigel and Nikola facing them.

"The railway station, my good man," James said as he pulled the door shut. A moment later, the coach began to move. Helen slipped her hand into John's and, after a quick calculation in her mind, slipped her other hand into James'. Nikola noticed but made no comment, and Nigel watched the city rolling by through the window.

Helen couldn't have hidden her anxiety even from strangers, so she stood no chance with her dearest friends. She was terrified at how her father would react to the news of their experiment. He tolerated her association with John and James and had finally given up complaining about 'the Five.' But to tell him just how far their experimentation had gone was terrifying.

Fortunately, she would not have to face him alone. She squeezed her friends' hands and ordered herself to relax and enjoy the trip.

It was an order easier given than followed.


	7. Along the Heavy Road

The crowd at the platform was sparse, and Helen led the way through the gathered travelers to board the train. The porter stowed their baggage in two compartments, splitting them up so that Helen would be traveling with James and John while Nikola and Nigel were across the narrow corridor. The night before, John had offered to escort them all to London in the wink of an eye, but Helen needed the time to ponder what she was going to say when she finally saw her father and revealed the truth of what she'd done.

Helen settled onto the plush velvet seat, leaving room at her left for John. He filled the space easily, easing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him. James sat on the opposite bench. He unbuttoned his jacket and let the two halves fall open as he peered through the window at the countryside opposite the train station. Nikola stood in the open doorway of their compartment, toying with a cigarette that had recently becoming his vice.

"Are you certain you want us there when you speak to your father?" Nikola asked.

"Absolutely. The Sanctuary has been solitary far too long. I believe the time has come to widen my scope. With the four of you at my side, he won't be able to deny the possibilities. Thank you for agreeing to accompany us, Nikola."

He sighed dramatically and let his gaze wander down the aisle. "It might be nice to have a purpose. Genius can be a very solitary gift when you're surrounded only by other geniuses." He winked at her and straightened. "I'm going to see what I can find to entertain myself during the trip. Enjoy the ride, gentlemen. Miss." He satirically touched the brim of his bowler at Helen and pushed away from the wall.

James stood and closed the compartment door once Nikola was gone. When he sat again, he noted Helen's recumbent pose and the way John's finger was running across the bare skin between her glove and sleeve cuff. He cleared his throat and began to rise. "Actually, I may see if Nikola wishes for some company on his wanderings."

Helen waved him back down. "Don't be silly, James. Sit."

He returned to his seat and withdrew a notebook from an inner pocket of his jacket. Helen tilted her head to the side and turned her face to the window. John ducked his head under the brim of her hat to kiss her neck. Helen's chuckle was throaty and erotic, and James found himself examining her more than his handwriting.

The train pulled away from the station with a lurch that caused Helen and John to rock against each other across from him. She turned her head and found his lips and they kissed in a manner unbecoming polite company. James knew that he shouldn't have been scandalized considering what the three of them had done with each other, but he coughed into his fist and turned himself more toward the window.

Helen broke the kiss and nuzzled John's cheek. "We're making poor James uncomfortable."

"James is making himself uncomfortable." John's chuckle was smothered by another kiss. He lifted Helen's hat from her head, threading her curls through his fingers to give them more life after being confined for the carriage ride. James looked over the top of his notebook at the countryside passing by their window. The train would make a brief stop in Reading before continuing to London. All told, he had another two hours to spend with the lovebirds. He hoped he was up for the challenge.

They ceased kissing after a few minutes and James was grateful for the reprieve. John rested his head against the wall of their compartment, letting the movement of the car lull him into a doze. James focused on his notes while Helen watched the scenery through the window. He was correcting one of his notes when he realized Helen had turned away from the glass to stare at him instead. He made a point of ignoring her.

A part of his mind was still stuck in the moment two nights ago when he'd been lying in bed trying to sleep and a nude, glistening John Druitt appeared in his bedroom. John had stroked his wet cock and brushed the fingers against James' lips before vanishing again as quickly as he'd appeared. James had been stunned by the visitation and painfully turned on. He masturbated, wishing he had taken Helen's offer to bivouac on her couch.

Across from him on the train, he was aware of Helen's fingers moving in her lap like a spider, advancing at a slow crawl without making any forward progress. He lowered his notebook and realized she was lifting her skirts, exposing her stockings to him. James closed the book on his thumb and straightened against the back of the bench. He lifted his gaze to her face, unable to resist a smile at the teasing curve of her lips. The dimples on either cheek deepened as she met his eye.

She continued to gather her dress until it was piled on her thighs, leaving her legs exposed from the knee down. She uncrossed her ankles, shifting her weight to face him more fully. She rested a hand on each knee, moving them apart just enough that he could see the darkness between them. He tightened his grip on the journal to keep them from trembling and moved his other hand to his lap. He heard Helen take a deep, sudden breath and she moved her hands higher. She eased her legs apart as her hands traveled higher.

James pressed his palm against the rise in his trousers, tracing its shape. When he looked into Helen's eyes again, he saw that she was watching him rub. He looked at John and was startled to see he was awake and watching them. John lifted his head from the wall, clearly seeing that the ruse was no longer necessary, and kissed Helen's temple. His hands came up under her arms, touching her breasts through her clothes until he reached her collar.

One pearl button came undone, and then a second. John's lips touched the shell of Helen's ear and her eyes closed. Her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks as she moved one hand from her thigh and reached behind herself. James watched as she folded her fingers around John's crotch and began teasing him with her fingertips.

James knew he was almost assuredly blushing as he watched them. Helen gave up all pretense of the tease and moved her free hand higher under her skirts, touching herself brazenly as her fingers moved slowly up and down the length pressing against John's trousers. Her legs fell further apart and he could see the tops of her stockings and garters. Somehow he found the sight of her underclothes just as arousing as seeing her naked so long ago, and he allowed himself a weak groan as her fingers danced over the pale material of her stockings.

When John spoke, his voice seemed loud enough to have been heard by the conductor. "I believe the time to be coy has passed, James. Show the lady what she wants to see." He kissed Helen's neck and she arched her back. She whimpered and opened her eyes just a sliver so that James could see the whites through her lashes. He hesitated only a moment before he began undoing the buttons of his trousers.

Helen's breathing quickened until it matched the huffing of the train. James opened his trousers, pushed his underwear out of the way, and fished his erection out into the open air. Helen's gaze was drawn to it, and James self-consciously made a loose circle with two fingers and his thumb and began stroking. John resumed unbuttoning Helen's dress, parting the material so James could see the lace of her underclothes. John's hand slid into the bodice and Helen pressed against him, filling his hand with her breast.

James' cock swelled as he watched John caress Helen. She kept her eyes open as much as possible and he tried to make sure she got a good show. Masturbation had always seemed to him a private, and borderline shameful, activity. Never had he imagined performing for an audience. But for this audience... he was willing to make the effort. He stopped stroking just long enough to wet his fingers with a pass of his tongue. He rubbed his palm against the blunt tip of his cock head and spread the moisture down the length of his shaft. He gripped the base tightly and let it rise proudly from the gap in his trousers.

"May I?" Helen whispered.

Both men thought she was talking to him. James said, "Yes," just as John whispered, "Of course," against her ear. Whomever she had intended the question for, it was obviously just a formality. She leaned forward and hunched her shoulders, allowing John to take down her bodice as she slid off the bench. Helen put a hand on either of James' knees and pushed them apart. He pressed his shoulders into the back of the seat, his breath catching in his throat as she slid forward with a predatory feline grace. She ran her tongue over her lips, eyes focused on his erection as she lifted her head, kissed the tip, and then took him into her mouth.

James could only manage a strangled groan. The back of his head thudded against the padded wall behind him. He heard movement and forced himself to watch as John moved to the edge of his seat and reached down to touch Helen. He unfastened hooks and loosened laces, and her clothing was tugged carefully away from her body. James felt like he was watching everything from a few feet above his body, all of his awareness centered in what Helen's lips and tongue were doing to him.

On her knees, Helen kept her hands on James' thighs, massaging his muscles through his trousers as her clothes were peeled away from her. John licked two fingers and touched her between the legs, and Helen pressed her tongue against the spot where his shaft met the head of his cock. Vibrations ran from her throat all the way to the base of James' spine, and he put his hand on the back of her head.

"Don't guide her," John said. "She hates that. And she knows precisely what she's doing."

"Apparently so." James was grunting, lifting his hips in time with the movement of Helen's head. He heard the rustling of cloth and tore his attention from Helen to watch John return to the bench. His pants were already open and he removed his cock. James blushed as he remembered the way it had felt in his hand, in his mouth, and elsewhere. It was thick in the middle, with the slender head hanging over his thigh like a pendulum. He stroked it, wetting his fingers and then adding the lubrication to his cock before he knelt behind Helen.

Helen released James and sat up, twisting at the waist to kiss John as he pressed against her. He had one hand on her hip, the other running over her stomach to squeeze her breast. James dropped off his bench and pressed against Helen, his erection brushing against the material of her underwear in an almost painfully pleasurable way. Helen broke her kiss with John and had just enough time to suck in a breath before James covered her mouth with his.

James moved in concert with John in a frenzied attack. Helen gasped, "Yes, yes," when their kiss broke, lifting her arms to let them peel away something cotton and she moaned with pleasure as their fingers moved between her legs. James spread her labia with two fingers, pressing the tip of a third inside. Her fingers closed like talons on his shoulders and she arched her back, her body rigid as she moved against his hand.

He lowered his head and kissed her breasts, tracing the shape of her areole with his tongue before teasing the nipple with his teeth. Helen raked her fingers through his hair, making a mess of it as she twisted her neck to accept John's kisses. Her skin was warm, slick with sweat, and James breathed deep the smell of her. She wrapped her hand around him again, pulling him toward her sex. Her fingers moved deliciously over the sensitive glans of his penis and he struggled to stave off his orgasm.

"Off." Helen's free hand was on his collar and she tugged violently on it to get her point across. "Off, take this off this instant, Dr. Watson."

He pulled back just enough to strip out of his coat. Helen stopped just short of tearing away the buttons of his shirt. She was making a sound of feral impatience low in the throat as she bared his chest and then ran her fingernails over his pectorals. He retreated to his bench and stripped off his shirt, shoving his pants down his legs as he admired the unadorned beauty of Helen Magnus, stroking his cock as she rose before him like a wraith.

The hair between her legs was thick and dark blonde. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, seeming to diffuse all the oxygen between them before pressing her lips to his. James closed his eyes and put his hands on her breasts as their tongues met. He didn't notice when she placed a knee on the bench beside him and didn't realize he was being straddled until he felt her hand around his cock guiding it toward her entrance.

She brushed him against her folds, both of them gasping at the contact, and James leaned back to look into her eyes. For a moment it was just the two of them, and he allowed himself to admit how he truly felt for her. She touched his face with her other hand, her thumb on his bottom lip as she bit hers. Her fingers were light on his cock, teasing herself with his tip before finally he was inside of her. The only noise she made was a quiet gasp at the back of her throat, and then she lifted her chin to expose her neck as he filled her.

James kissed her chest and put his arms around her. The backs of his hands brushed John's abdomen and he opened his eyes to see what John intended. He was standing one step back, staring at them with his hand moving over his erection, his eyes dark with lust and desire, and he brought his free hand up to wet the fingers. Then he slid his knuckles over Helen's rear end and extended two fingers between her legs.

Helen cried out in surprise as John penetrated her, shoulders hunched and mouth agape as his fingers teased her wider. "Oh... my." She shuddered and dropped her head to James' shoulder. John put his hand on Helen's throat in a semi-rough massage. Finally, she nodded and whispered, "Yes, John. Yes."

James watched as John moved closer and achieved full understanding when John gripped Helen's buttocks with both hands and spread them wide. He reached down and held her open, his fingers brushing against John's. John wet his fingers again, rubbed the bulbous tip of his penis, and then assumed the position. Helen turned her head and pressed her face against James' throat, bracing herself for John. She grunted and moaned when he first pressed against her, and James whispered to her that it was all right. His breath rustled the curls of hair behind her ear and he teased her earlobe with his lips and tongue as John slowly entered her.

James remained utterly still, fully inside of Helen. She let John know when he had gone too far with a moan, and a small nod told him that she was ready for more. Eventually, John said her name and began to rock his hips against hers. James matched him stroke for stroke, and Helen writhed between them. James held her breasts while John ran his hands over her hips and thighs, pulling her to him and then guiding her down onto James.

She pulled away, hands on James' chest, and James stared at them both. Occasionally a part of John's sex would brush against James. He had no way to know if it was John's shaft, his testicles, or his thigh, and each contact was like an electric charge through his body. Helen kissed him, moaning helplessly any time either of them moved.

James couldn't stop touching her, as if tactile exploration would seal her in his memory. Since their first time together he had spent far too many nights trying to recreate a curve or a freckle pattern. He pressed his thumb against the column of her throat and felt her pulse. John's hands moved from Helen's body to James, stroking his chest and then up to his shoulders. Helen dropped her head to James' ear and she whispered something that made his entire body flush. He nodded, told her, "Now," and Helen pushed John back. He retreated, Helen dropped, and she knelt between his legs again.

Seconds after she took his cock into her mouth, he surrendered. A single touch of her tongue and he came, lifting his lower body off the bench. His hands balled into fists on the edge of the bench and he thrust into her mouth. John moved forward and knelt beside him, and James watched him masturbate himself to climax over James' chest. Helen and James both watched as the white ribbons spilled across James' stomach, hip and thigh.

Helen swallowed the evidence of James' orgasm, then moved up and began to lick away John's with dainty, feline strokes of her tongue. John stroked Helen's hair and then bent down. James lifted his head just as John's lips found his. They kissed as Helen covered his lower body with tiny kisses, James' hand in her hair.

John pulled away, and Helen climbed into James' lap again. His cock, still semi-hard, was pinned against her thigh. She nuzzled his cheek, stroked his chest, and then twisted to watch John rearrange his clothes. He'd never gotten fully undressed, his pants hanging loose around his legs the entire time.

Once he was presentable, he bent down and left a line of kisses from Helen's ear to her mouth. Their kiss lingered, and James knew that he could taste their mingled orgasms on her tongue. The thought made his cock stir against Helen's thigh, and she shifted her weight to play with him.

"I'll leave you to recover."

Before Helen could question him or James could argue the wisdom of being left alone, John was gone in a swirl of light and displaced air. Helen watched the spot where he'd been standing for a moment and then turned to James. Their faces were impossibly close, her nose nearly touching his. She smiled and then kissed him, and James' tension faded away. He closed his arms around her, flattening the palms where her shoulders met her neck.

His feelings for John Druitt and Helen Magnus were so complex that even after the Source blood ignited his brain like a bonfire, he had no hope of solving the equation. He loved her. He loved him. But he respected their love for one another above all else. He let her kiss him, and he kissed her back, and Helen shifted her weight so that she was hovering over his growing cock. She looked at him for permission, knowing that to do this without John presence was crossing an arbitrary line. He nodded, she whispered an affirmation, and he was inside of her again.

This time their coupling was lazy, relaxed, and James explored her face with his lips while his hands roamed her body. He was aware of the way their sweat mingled where their bodies came together and he never wanted to wash it away. He wanted to keep some of her, no matter what it was, with him at all times. She moved a hand between their bodies and lifted her head to look into his eyes as she touched her clitoris. She teased it, circled it, pinched and rolled it between two fingers, and soon she was gasping her breath. She bowed her head and whispered his name against his cheek. James held her as she came and whispered, "God, I love you, Helen..."

"I adore you, James."

He slipped out of her and stroked himself until a meager orgasm smeared itself on her inner thigh. Helen gave a soft sigh of completion and her body relaxed in his arms. James pulled her onto the bench with him, rolling so that she was lying between him and the wall. He ran two fingers down her hip, teasing the skin and making her tremble when he touched a sensitive spot.

He curled his arm around her shoulders and she rested her cheek against his bicep. Her eyelids were heavy, but she was smiling at him through her lashes. "How long until we reach London?"

"We're not even in Reading yet," James said, although they had to be near. "You've plenty of time for a curative rest."

Her eyelids closed and she said, "Hm." James kissed her lips and the sound turned into a satisfied hum. When he pulled back, she was asleep. He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek and smiled when her breathing steadied. Whatever he felt for Helen and John, whatever name Noah Webster had given it in his dictionary, it was a feeling he wasn't willing to give up any time soon. Not for riches or glory, not for anything anybody could offer. He settled in to watch her as she dozed.

#

They reached Paddington Station nearly two hours later, their arrival delayed by a mechanical failure that left them stranded for a brief interlude. Helen had found an on-board water closet and washed as best she could, returning herself to some semblance of respectability before she joined the men in the dining car. Despite her efforts to scrub and douche, Nikola sat up a little straighter when she arrived and seem to have a knowing smile on his lips during their meal. An added benefit to his vampirism, they had discovered, were heightened senses. She blushed to think he could read her sins so easily.

London was like another world after the relative idylls Oxford. She stood on the edge of the platform and looked out over the buildings and the erupting smokestacks of the factories. Voices came from all around her, the platform crowded with travelers going to and fro. She was anxious by the crowds, which she had forgotten, and dreading the conversation that awaited her at home.

Someone touched her arm and she turned to see John. "The coachman has loaded the baggage. All we're missing is you."

Helen smiled and took his elbow. He escorted her through the train station to where the coach was waiting in the street. Nikola and Nigel were already aboard, but James was waiting by the folding steps. He offered her his hand when she approached, and John put a hand in the small of her back to guide her inside.

She ended up seated beside Nikola and tried not to lean away from him. He smiled at her.

"Nothing quite as restorative as a train ride through the country, hm? I swear, Helen, you're looking positively... radiant."

"Nikola..." The warning was clear in John's tone, and Nikola shrugged in resignation. John looked at her. "Shall we, Helen?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "No point in delaying. To the Magnus estate."


	8. An Idle King

The house of her youth loomed in the window of the coach like the setting of a long-ago dream. Helen could hardly believe the many years she'd spent within its walls would already seem so impossibly distant. Her father stepped outside at the sound of their approach and she wondered if he had been waiting for their arrival. Helen was escorted from the carriage by John, and Gregory greeted her with a smile as the baggage was retrieved.

"Helen! Oxford has treated you well, I see."

"It's been splendid." She kissed him on the cheek and eyed his cane. "And how has London been treating you?"

"Ah, nothing to be concerned about. Carrying this thing around just gives me something to lean on when I pause for reflection. Stop looking at me like I'm an old man; I'm just older than I was the last time you saw me." He patted her arm and then looked past her. She had heard the scuffling of shoe leather on the pavement as the rest of the group disembarked and now her father examined her traveling companions with a cautious eye. "Gentlemen."

Helen turned to see her four traveling companions standing behind her. John and James were the closest, with Nikola and Nigel at their shoulders. Gregory had met them all at one point or another, in various combinations as they returned to London with her to lend a hand at the Sanctuary. This was the first time all of the Five had shown up on his front step at the same time, and she could tell he was wary.

John and James had both received her father's seal of approval, but had he known just how well-acquainted the three of them had become... She cut the thought off before it could fully form, saving herself from an inconvenient blush.

"A pleasure to see you again, Dr. Magnus," James said.

"And you, James. Mr. Druitt." John nodded a greeting and stepped to stand beside James. Helen could tell both men were struggling with the proper way to greet the father of a woman they had so recently had their way with. Helen didn't help matters by blowing them a kiss once Gregory's back was turned. James admonished her with a look; John winked.

Gregory moved past Helen to face the men. "Mr. Tesla."

Nikola dipped his chin in greeting. "Dr. Magnus, always a pleasure."

"I'm not sure I would call it that, Mr. Tesla, but welcome." Time and again, he had attempted to convince Helen that Nikola was a bad influence. They were both stubborn men, and Nikola had no qualms about questioning Gregory's authority in his own house. Helen couldn't count the times Nikola had stormed out and Gregory had shouted at Helen that she was "never to bring that man to my home again!"

But intrigue always won out over hurt feelings, and Nikola was always welcomed, if a bit warily. Gregory turned to the last person to depart the carriage and offered him a reluctantly polite smile. "And Mr. Griffin! The gang is all here."

Nigel offered a tight, uncomfortable smile. He fussed with the collar of his shirt and Helen felt sorry for him. The time they spent together had broken down the class barriers between them, but standing in front of Helen's home made it abundantly clear to him that he didn't belong. She knew that her father disliked Nigel, but he nevertheless welcomed Nigel into his house as a guest and never had Élodie count the silver after he left.

Gregory faced Helen. "My daughter and her 'Five,' all in the same place at the same time. Whatever you've brought this time, it should be interesting. Shall we?"

Helen nodded and allowed her father to lead the procession inside. Élodie was waiting at the foot of the stairs in her white cap and black uniform. She stepped forward as they entered and smiled when she met Helen's eye. "Miss Magnus," she said.

"Hello, Élodie." Helen kissed the chambermaid on both cheeks. "It's wonderful to see you again. We simply must find time to catch up while I'm home."

"I'd like that very much, miss."

Élodie took their coats and disappeared through a door at the far end of the foyer. Gregory had continued on, so Helen was left to lead her friends to the study. John moved beside her, touching her arm and leaning toward her until his lips nearly brushed her ear. "Was she the one you spoke of?"

Helen playfully slapped his arm. "Stop."

"Exquisite taste, dear." His hand moved to her hip, but Helen stepped away from him.

"None of that while we're under my father's roof."

He nodded that he understood and preceded her into the study. Helen felt both transported and displaced. The study was a familiar and comforting place where she had whiled away many hours as a girl. But it was also a new and changed place that contained so many things that she didn't recognize that she wanted to delay their inevitable discussion to take a tour. A globe stood on either side of the hearth, and Helen could see that one of them was an antique that didn't include the Americas. The curtains were parted and the sun cast a white-golden glow on every surface.

Gregory sighed as he sat in his favorite armchair, and the men allowed Helen to have the seat facing him. She folded her hands in her lap. John stood to her right, with James directly behind her chair. Nikola moved toward the fireplace and idly spun the globe while Nigel remained in the open space between the door and the sitting area like a servant awaiting drink orders. Élodie joined them after putting away their jackets to fulfill that duty herself.

They spoke of Helen's studies and her father's travels - he'd made it to India six months ago to confirm a sighting of a rare haplorhini Abnormal, and Helen was finding it easier to convince professors to allow her to audit their classes. When their prized pupil James Watson threatened to leave if she was turned away, the professors soon found themselves rushing to accommodate her.

Once the tea was served, Gregory politely dismissed Élodie and asked her to close the door when she left. He looked at each man in turn and then focused on his daughter. He held his tea with both hands and waited for Helen to speak first.

"Father. I went to Oxford for the express purpose of enlightening myself so I could help you with your Sanctuary. So that I would one day have the tools at my disposal to fill your shoes. Two years ago, with the help of my friends, I began taking great strides in achieving that goal. With their help, I discovered a sample of Source blood... untainted vampire blood."

Gregory reacted as if he'd been scalded. He lunged forward from his chair, eyes wild and roses of red bursting on his cheeks as his anger exploded out of him. "You _what_?"

John and Nikola both took a step toward him, but Helen shook her head to them and awaited her father's rancor. He breathed deeply, almost trembling from his anger. He pushed himself back in his seat, cradling the cup of tea in one hand while the other massaged slow circles over his right eyebrow. He closed his eyes and visibly forced himself to calm down, breathing slowly through his nose until he could speak in a civilized tone.

He opened his eyes and leveled Helen with a glare that would have petrified her only a few years earlier. "What did you do, Helen?"

"We devised a serum that would prove safe to--"

"No, no, no." Gregory's chant overwhelmed Helen's words and she fell silent. He faced her again, this time with disappointment edging out his anger. "How could you have done something so stupid?"

Helen tensed and her eyes flashed with her own anger. "The steps I took were necessary, Father. The world is constantly changing around us, and every year you discover new and deadlier forms of Abnormal. If the Sanctuary is to survive to the next century, we must adapt and change with it."

"I forbid it. Do you hear me, Helen? Whatever you're planning to do with this serum of yours, I _absolutely_ forbid it."

Helen returned his stare without blinking. "We're past that, Father."

He looked at the others with realization dawning in his eyes. He slumped against the back of his chair like a fighter dealt a crushing blow. "No... oh, no. Helen, tell me you didn't. The effects of untainted vampire blood, even diluted to its base components would be so wildly unpredictable that you might as well have loaded a gun and put it to your temple. It's a wonder the five of you are still able to communicate. I take it there was illness? Pain?"

"Some, yes. But it passed, and we were left with extraordinary gifts."

"Dear God," Gregory muttered. Something caught his eye near the door and the tea cup tumbled from his fingers. "Dear _God_!" he said again.

Helen and the others turned to see Nigel's suit floating unsupported in front of the curtain. The empty sleeves rose, and he bowed so they could see through the hole of the shirt.

"Sorry." His voice came from the empty space above his collar. "Thought a visual demonstration, for those of us what can, would go further than just explaining."

"What else?" Gregory sounded like a man suffering great torture, urging his tormentors on so that the pain would end sooner. John teleported from the room and Helen felt the pressure in her ears from the displacement of air. Nikola revealed fangs and claws, turning his dark eyes on Gregory as the elder Magnus rose from his chair and leveled a finger at him.

" _Sanguine vampiris_. Certainly this, if nothing else, has proven what mad path you've started down, Helen."

Nikola's lips protruded in a pout due to his teeth, and he examined his dark nails with his onyx gem eyes. "If I were more sensitive I might be offended by that."

Helen rose from her seat. "James and I were changed as well. His mind has grown to unimaginable levels. He's been back to London thrice in the past six months to assist Scotland Yard in what they call 'hopeless cases.' The mysteries posed by Abnormal life would be child's play to someone with his abilities."

John reappeared then, making Gregory step rapidly to one side. John bowed an apology and handed Gregory a Parisian newspaper. He resumed his place at Helen's side and folded his hands behind his back.

Gregory's voice was sandpaper as he examined the headline. "And you, my daughter? What became of you?"

Helen cleared her throat. "My gift was a bit less extravagant."

"But nonetheless astounding," James said.

"Longevity. My aging process has been slowed to the point where, barring outside events, I will not die for a very, very long time."

Gregory scoffed and shook his head. "Sounds more like a curse to me."

Helen shrugged. She couldn't argue with that.

"The Sanctuary must continue on, Father. How else are we to protect the meek Abnormals who require our help? How else shall we be expected to stand against the aggressive Abnormals who seek to stop us? This had to happen if the Sanctuary was going to survive."

"You should have consulted me."

"So you could talk us out of it? When you said you wished to hand this responsibility over to me one day, did you honestly think I would be content to wander the catacombs and hide within these four walls? You've spent too many years hiding and keeping yourself safe. There is a whole world of Abnormals out there who require our help. Are we to simply turn them away because we don't have the room?"

Gregory was livid. "How dare you speak to me this way? I built this Sanctuary, I gave you a place to study, to expand your knowledge, and now you stand here and insult--"

"Please!" Helen's voice was little less than a bark now. She stood facing her father, hands at her sides balled into fists, and James was torn between trying to comfort her or to make a stealthy retreat. He doubted either Magnus would notice their departure, but he was rooted to place. Helen stepped closer. "'It little profits an idle king by this still hearth--'"

Gregory aimed his finger at Helen's face. "Don't you dare quote Tennyson at me, young lady."

Helen didn't back down. "'That which we are, we are.'" She recited in a calmer voice now. "'One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.' There are two options, Father. The Sanctuary can remain as it's been your entire life, or it can grow and evolve. It can become so much more if we're only willing to take chances."

Gregory looked at the Parisian newspaper again and then tossed it into his seat. The fight had gone out of him and he looked at the Five once more. Nigel had regained his normal opacity, and Nikola was once again wearing the visage of a proper gentleman.

"Willful, contrary, stubborn girl."

Helen allowed herself a smile at that. "Am I not my father's daughter?"

Gregory laughed without humor. "There is little doubt of that." He tossed the paper onto the chair and walked to the window. Helen tracked him with her eyes, turning to stare at his back while he pondered the current situation. "No point in wishing to undo what's already been done. The untainted vampire blood you used to conduct this experiment... was it completely depleted?"

"No. There was quite a lot left, actually."

Gregory sighed and faced her. "Then that is my price for allowing this... travesty. I'll accept what you've done and you'll bring the Source blood to me so it can be properly disposed of."

James tensed. "I hardly think that's necessary, Dr. Magnus."

"The alternative is leaving it to fall into the wrong hands. Helen, can you imagine what a group like the Cabal could do with something of this power?"

"The Cabal died out," James said.

"So they would have us believe. But something that powerful and evil rarely remains dead for long. Even if the Cabal is truly gone, others will rise up to take their place. I cannot abide knowing it exists, that they could get their hands on it and do any manner of ungodly things. Before, the Source blood was merely a potentially dangerous weapon. But now, should anyone learn of what you five have accomplished... you've given our enemies a way to become all-powerful."

Helen hadn't considered that aspect. "What you say is true, Father, but something as rare and powerful as the Source blood must be preserved. Isn't that the point of the Sanctuary? Just because something is dangerous doesn't mean we should base our reactions in fear. The Source blood has remained safe for generations in hiding. Take the remaining sample and take it somewhere secure. Prevent our enemies from ever gaining access to it."

Gregory considered her offer and nodded. "Very well."

Helen looked at John and nodded. He disappeared in a flash and Gregory bit off a noise of surprise. He shook his head.

"I have no idea how any of you could get used to that."

"It took some time," Helen said with a smile. "Where do you plan to hide it? Here?"

Gregory shook his head. "God, no. Too many wandering eyes and hands downstairs. I have a place in mind. It will be enormously difficult to reach on foot, but I suppose that only works in its favor as a hiding place. I'll secure the blood and ensure that only the five of you working in concert can gain access."

Nikola smiled. "So you must have injected the blood in order to get the blood. Ingenious ploy, Dr. Magnus. I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Gregory's expression left little debate as to how he felt about Nikola, but he said nothing. John reappeared in the study and Gregory did release a quick shout this time. He shook his head, perterbed at himself as he stepped forward. John was holding the beaker that contained the remaining sample. He looked at Helen and she nodded her agreement before John handed it to her father.

He took the blood with reverence and held it up so that the sunlight passed through the stained glass and reflected maroon off the liquid rolling within. Helen had a sudden fear that he would simply smash the container on the floor and be done with it, but she forced herself to be calm. After a moment he lowered the beaker and looked at her with something like respect. He smiled and sighed.

"I would have found the question impossible to resist, too."

Helen smiled. "Of course. You're a Magnus."

Gregory stepped between Helen and James to place the Source blood on the escritoire. He took care to place it far from any edge so it wouldn't fall accidentally. He ran both hands through his hair and gazed down at the beaker. Helen could tell that he was excited, now that their argument was over and won, by the possibilities of this rare find.

"I'll need someone to take over the every day aspects of the Sanctuary while I'm putting together an appropriate resting place for this."

Helen nodded. "Of course, Father. I brought my things from Oxford and have arranged everything for a short leave of absence from my studies."

"As for us," James said, "there's no better time than the present to see just how helpful our powers will be in the field. We've also taken leave from our studies to remain here at Helen's beck and call. I doubt we'll have to wait long before a crisis makes itself known and we're called into action."

John smiled. "Should be rather exciting."

Gregory had only granted half his attention to the conversation, gathering leather-bound texts and tall books of maps and stacking them on the desk. When he had as many as he could comfortably carry, he lifted them and faced Helen. "It will be quite a trial by fire, Helen. Do you think your Five is up to the task?"

Helen looked at them and smiled. "Yes, Father. I believe we most definitely are."

He sighed and shook his head. "I pray you're right, my darling."

#

Helen asked for some time to herself, and the men were happy to oblige. They moved their bags to the guest rooms, though they were forced to double-up. Helen asked John to room with Nikola and James with Nigel, just so there would be no mistake about whether or not there would be any nocturnal visitations during the stay. Helen wouldn't have felt right continuing to carry on with them under her father's roof.

Her room was near Gregory's, but she had the entire floor to herself as he was in his study trying to figure out the best way to reach his proposed hiding place for the Source blood. She wandered the corridors and paused to smile at a memory in some alcove or to check whether an old hiding place was still intact and full of her childhood treasures. She found an old carved wagon that had explored thousands of miles of their hardwood floor. She ran the wheels with her fingers and replaced it in the nook before moving on.

The days when she traversed these corridors on her hands and knees, pushing some toy or dragging some doll, seemed to be part of another life. The memories were hazy and unclear. And yet they were only three decades old. She was terrified of losing them completely as her life continued unabated. Lives stacked upon lives. How could anyone possibly hold so much experience in their mind?

And of course, there were the people she loved. John would remain by her side, but what of her closest friends? Her father? The professor at Oxford who knew her true identity and allowed her to sit in on classes regardless? People who were dear to her would pass in and out of her life like phantoms. There and gone in the blink of an eye. Her life suddenly stretched out before her like a road that dwindled to a spot on the horizon. What if she lived to be one hundred years old? Two hundred? The thought made her weary.

She made her way back to her old room and let herself in, stopping short when she realized Élodie was there. She was bent over the bed, fluffing a pillow, and she straightened and smiled when the door opened. Helen met Élodie when she was fourteen and the chambermaid was nineteen or twenty. Time had carried on, naturally, and now there were streaks of gray in her auburn hair and wrinkles were visible at the corners of her eyes. She was still beautiful, achingly so, but it only reminded Helen that she would watch her loved ones grow old before she suffered through their deaths. How would she cope?

"Afternoon, miss. Will you be having a nap?"

"I'm not sure." She closed the door and crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed. "Élodie do you... often think back over your life? The things you've lost, people with whom you've fallen out of touch?"

"Oh, sure. But that's the nature of life, you know? Grow up, move on. People have their own paths, Miss Magnus. They travel or they move away, or they leave for University." She looked up and smiled bashfully at this last one, and Helen couldn't help but smile back.

Helen sat on the foot of the bed and folded her hands between her knees. "I don't know how I'll be able to say goodbye."

"To whom?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "To everyone."

Élodie's footsteps were soft as she moved to stand in front of Helen. She put her hands on Helen's shoulders and touched their foreheads together. Helen smiled and remembered how they had done this when she was just a girl. _"Your brain straight to mine. That's how it works. So it's not like sharin' a secret, it's just like spreading it over a wider area. Takes the weight off you a bit."_ Helen opened her eyes and saw Élodie watching her.

"This is how you do it, Miss: you take care to let people know how much they mean to you while they're in your life. You treasure 'em. Make sure you don't have any regrets when they pass out of your life. That won't make it any easier, mind, but it might help you move on afterward."

"A sound plan," Helen whispered. She leaned in and kissed her first lover, parting her lips so that their tongues could touch. Élodie's hands moved up into Helen's hair and she moaned before she broke the kiss. She pecked the corners of Helen's mouth and pulled back. Helen's eyes were dark. "Élodie... would you please lock the door and draw me a bath?"

"As you wish."

Helen put her hands on the bed as Élodie moved to the door. Perhaps time was a river, not a road. It would flow past her at a rapid clip, the future overtaking the present and pushing back the past. If she spent her time looking back to where she had come from, she would miss so much of where she currently was.

Élodie smiled as she crossed the room to Helen's private lavatory, her hands clasped primly behind her back. Helen watched her go and then stood up to begin undressing.

All she could do was ensure the people she loved knew exactly how much they meant to her, however much time they had together.


	9. City of Dreadful Night

Gregory left at the height of summer, promising to keep in contact as much as possible. It would take him several months to even reach Bhalasaam, and he was unsure exactly how long he needed to set up the security. Helen had been left in charge of the Sanctuary many times in the past, but now she felt as she was being tested.

The others remained in London with her, occasionally returning to Oxford for one reason or another. With John's ability, a trip home was a matter of absolute ease. They left from the main foyer of Gregory's home and arrived in the parlor of Helen's flat. At first Helen thought John's teleportation gift was an enormous boon. They determined that he required a clear mental image of where he intended to arrive or he would simply pop back into the place he was trying to leave. James deduced that travel time, regardless of distance, was approximately three-tenths of a second. Any attempt to send scientific monitoring equipment through the void with him resulted in the device being rendered useless.

After a month in London, with John going back and forth to Oxford at least four times a week, Helen grew concerned. He was disturbingly weak after one series of jumps, assuring her it was merely his internal chronometer being disoriented by the apparent instability of the sun's position in the sky. He rested with a wet cloth over his eyes, and Helen doted on him until his health returned. After the second bout of illness, Helen restricted John to only two trips per week until they better understood the strains he was under when he jumped.

James began devouring the written word, spending every waking hour in the library with at least two books open in front of him. On several occasions Helen had found him sitting up, chin on his fist, fast asleep. She would wake him with a kiss and escort him to bed. James and John respected her decision to not sleep with them while in her father's house, so Élodie was the only person sharing her bed.

Nigel's actions in particular concerned her, often leaving for hours at a time and returning only at sunset. He made the acquaintance of a woman named Helena Wells, a person Helen didn't trust one whit, who was interested in writing a book about him once he revealed his ability to her. Helena often visited the Sanctuary and, while Helen didn't exactly warm to the "charmingly" cheeky writer, she soon found herself enjoying the presence of another woman.

James and Nikola also spent time in the company of a writer named Arthur Conan Doyle, although Nikola attracted more attention from a theatre manager named Stoker. It seemed as if the Five were destined to be remembered in the pages of sensational fiction, although Helen rebuffed any and all attempts by authors who wished to chronicle her adventures.

In the meantime, John began training himself in various disciplines of combat. He sought out various masters of their crafts, taking a particular interest in the use of bladed weapons. He and Nikola often spared behind the house, using the entire rolling expanse of green grass for sessions that an outside observer would call brutal assaults. Nikola didn't mind pain and, as they quickly discovered, wounds that would prove fatal to mortals were mere inconveniences to him.

Eventually Helen found herself fully immersed in the day-to-day needs to running her father's home and the Sanctuary. The Abnormals who lived in the Sanctuary required a specific diet, provided by various black-market butcher shops and less than reputable traders at the shipyards. Nikola also required a steady supply of blood, which was provided by butchers by the litre.

It was evening in the early days of 1887, and the silence of night had fallen over the corridors of the house. She was in her father's office reading by gaslight - the riveting final installment of H. Rider Haggard's _She_ \- when James knocked on the open door. She smiled at him and marked her place in the magazine before she put it aside. "This is a surprise. Don't tell me you've read everything in the study already."

"Hardly. I fear that is a goal better suited to your gift than mine. No, my presence has been requested by Scotland Yard, and I thought I would see if you would like to accompany me. Get a bit of fresh air."

Helen tried to disguise her eagerness. "That sounds lovely. But why do you want me there?"

James chuckled. "Helen, my gift was an intelligence that surpassed most men. In the time since my cognation was enhanced, you have managed to keep up with me every step of the way. It's not so much that I _want_ you there, although I do. I need you there. To hone my theories, to act as a sounding board and provide a--"

"Mere mortals' perspective?" She winked.

James pursed his lips. "I wasn't quite going to phrase it as such. Can you get away?"

"Of course. Give me a few moments to prepare?" James dipped his chin in acknowledgement before he left the office. Helen rose from behind her father's desk and followed James into the corridor. She went to her room and examined the contents of her wardrobe for something that would be appropriate for traipsing about in the night air with the world's greatest detective. She decided that a pair of trousers might be scandalous, but the right cloak would cover them. Although she wouldn't need to cover them if...

She smiled and dug through the dresses and gowns until she found an appropriate outfit. She pinned her hair up under a bowler and covered her eyes with pince-nez. She trimmed off a bit of her curls and applied it to her top lip with spirit gum. Gloves and an overcoat disguised the shape of her hands and body, and she was waiting in the foyer when Élodie saw her.

"Have you been helped, sir?"

Helen smiled. "Quite handily, thank you."

Élodie paused, blinked, and stopped walking. "Miss Magnus?"

Helen touched the brim of her hat. Élodie blushed and looked around to see if anyone was watching, then leaned in to kiss Helen.

"Will you be leaving that on the entire night, miss?"

"I could be persuaded." Helen slipped her arm around Élodie's waist and pulled her close. Their kiss was interrupted by James clearing his throat loudly from the stairs.

"A bit of decorum, please, Élodie! What would Miss Magnus say if she knew you were entertaining a gentleman caller so brazenly?"

Helen turned her head. "I believe she would find it arousing, Dr. Watson."

James' eyes widened and he cleared his throat. "I see. Well... I..." He coughed into his fist, and Helen laughed.

"Don't be upset, James. Your powers of observation seem to be matched only by your lessons in how to be a gentleman." She stepped away from Élodie and bowed slightly to her. The chambermaid returned the bow with a curtsey, apologized quietly to James, and hurried on to finish her duties.

James watched her go and then stepped to the door. "Well, shall we?"

"We shall."

They stepped out into the night, and James offered Helen his arm before he realized it would be inappropriate in their current garb. He straightened his jacket and led the way to the street. Helen followed behind him. James gestured to the east and they began to walk. He didn't speak again until they were well underway.

"I suspected you were carrying on with the maid. But it's one thing to know it, and another--"

She tried not to let her anger show, but it was hard to keep it inside. "Of course, James. Discretion is a virtue. In the future Élodie and I will strive to not offend your delicate sensibilities."

James sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Helen. I didn't mean to..." He shook his head and touched her arm. "Since our interlude on the train, I've found it difficult to be near you and not _with_ you. I find myself dreaming about you."

Helen blushed, grateful for the thin veil of fog between them. "Just me? Or John as well?"

It was James' turn to look away. "I won't deny there are many... difficult emotions."

"There must be, if even you cannot speak of them." She touched his cheek and James pulled back. "Helen... it wouldn't look right."

"Of course."

He took her hand, kissed the fingers through her glove before he set out again. "We're meeting Inspector Lestrade near St. Paul's. There has been a murder."

"Certain to be something fiendishly grotesque."

James chuckled. "A tragedy worthy of Poe and A.M. Barnard, no doubt."

Since their arrival in London, Lestrade had been a common visitor to the Magnus estate. He and James would often sit in the study together and smoke pipes while the inspector laid out the facts of whatever case was giving him fits at the moment. After a few hours James would escort Lestrade out, the poor policeman attempting to hide his excitement at having a fresh lead, and he would go back to whatever he had been doing when he was interrupted for the purpose of solving a crime.

"It would seem you've found your calling, James. Nikola and John are still trying to find ways to utilize their powers..."

James made a noise. "And Nigel has become inventive, I'll give him that."

"What do you mean?"

He started to explain, but they were nearing the cathedral. "We'll discuss it another time. But I'm not the only member of our group that seems to know what the future holds. I've seen the Sanctuary as run by your father, Helen, and now I have seen it run by you. He set the foundation but it will be your work, your purpose. Through you, it will achieve greatness."

Helen shook her head. "And if I fail, I'll have plenty of time to start over with another purpose."

"That's the spirit."

Helen couldn't help laughing at that. James guided her around the churchyard and Helen realized they were nearing Cheapside. She tried to remember what stocks were low, and hoped they would have time to do a bit of shopping before James solved the case. A group of uniformed bobbies had the crime scene marked off with ropes, and Lestrade ducked underneath it when he spotted their approach.

"Dr. Watson. Thank you for coming so quickly. I don't believe I've met your assistant."

James looked at Helen. "Yes, this is... Mr. Adler."

Lestrade nodded to her and motioned for them to follow as he walked back to the scene of the crime. "We'll take all the help we can get. This way."

Helen leaned toward James and lowered her voice so only he would hear. "Adler?"

"Well, you've certainly addled my mind."

Helen smirked and followed him under the rope. "I see you've taken my suggestion of isolating crime scenes from being trampled underfoot. Well done."

"The bobbies grumble about it, of course," Lestrade said, "but it's a small effort for great rewards."

The body was lying at the mouth of an alley, his arms extended over his head as if to fend off an attack. James knelt next to the corpse and twisted his head to the side to see the man's face without disturbing his final slumber. Even from her standing position, Helen could see dark blood splattered across the man's throat and cheek, staining the sleeve of his coat where it rested on his jaw.

"We patted him down a bit. Some coins, a Playbill, nothing to say who the fellow was 'fore he ended up here."

"Playbill?" James said. "For what?"

" _H.M.S Pinafore._ "

James nodded as if that was a vital piece of information, but really he just wanted to put Lestrade in the proper mindset to be interrogated. "Was the attack witnessed?"

"No, Doctor. A fruit vendor from Cheapside heard a scream and came to investigate. Found the poor bloke like this. He started to turn 'im over when he saw the blood and decided to alert the constables. I've had the bobbies searching for signs of the culprit, but there ain't been hide nor hair. I took the liberty of looking over the body and I quickly decided it was one for you."

James touched the man's vest and twisted so that the lamplight would illuminate what he'd found. "Some sort of viscous liquid on his chest and hands."

Lestrade held his shoulders back, puffing out his chest as he gestured at the body. "The wounds, Doctor on the man's throat." James did as instructed and made a noncommittal noise of interest. Lestrade took it as a prompt to expand on his theory. "A two-pronged weapon, unless I miss my guess."

"Certainly a possibility," James said dismissively. He motioned Helen closer. "Mr. Adler, what do you make of this?"

Helen stepped past Lestrade and crouched. She bent her knees apart in a decidedly unladylike fashion, revelling in the opportunity to put function above discretion. She could certain get used to spending time in trousers. James lifted the victim's arm just a bit so Helen could see the wounds in his throat. She could understand why Lestrade would have assumed a two-pronged weapon, but to her it was clearly a bite.

"Thoughts?"

"Nothing I would care to expound upon in public."

"Sir?"

Helen glanced back without actually looking at the inspector. James saved her from having to speak again.

"My associate and I would like an opportunity to explore the crime scene on our own, if you have no objections."

"Be my guest, guv, but I'm warning you... the killer of this gentleman didn't make it easy on us. No footprints or evidence of a retreat in any direction. Witness says whoever done it had to leave through the alley, but the dirt there is clean as a whistle. Not to mention the fact it's a dead end. Even if the killer did run in there, they'd've been trapped like rats."

James smiled. "Then the alley is where we shall begin our search. Mr. Adler..."

Helen stood and took a lantern from one of the bobbies. She stepped gingerly around the victim's final resting place and led James into the alley. She immediately stooped to hold the lantern over the dirt, although she doubted there would be anything in the way of footprints. She found evidence that supported her theory and she pointed it out to James.

"A trough in the dirt?" He knelt and touched the disturbed ground. "The same liquid as found on the victim's clothing. Well done, Helen."

"No need to sound so surprised." She smirked at him. "I had little doubt we would find it here once I formed my theory. The bite mark, the liquid you found on the victim's clothing, and now this trail... I believe we're looking for a nagaina." She held the lantern over her head and examined the brick walls rising on either side of the alleyway. She walked forward and held her lantern up to the wall that formed the dead end. "Half-human, half-serpent. The oily residue you found is an excretion that allows them to move quickly through any surfaces. And enough strength in their tails to propel them several yards straight up. Our killer did escape through the alley. But to where?"

"Allow me." James walked from the alley and ignored the constables as he gained his bearings. He pointed to the south. "Come, Adler."

Helen trotted to keep up with him as he strode confidently toward the marketplace of Cheapside. James kept his head up, examining the rooftops until he was standing on the street corner. Helen stopped at his right shoulder and adjusted the oblong rims of glasses for an unobstructed view of the crowd. Vendors had set up along the southern side of the street, pitching their wares to passersby. Large signs hung from the buildings, advertising the permanent businesses on both sides of the street. Despite the hour, there must have been two hundred people crowded onto the narrow avenue.

"Well, at least it should be easier than finding a snake in the grass."

Helen glared at him. "I'll take the south side of the street." James nodded and they split up. Helen had gone into crowds as a man before, but she was still jarred by how little respect men had for one another. She was bumped and jostled, and one man literally shoved her out of his way so forcefully that she nearly lost her footing. She glared after him, repositioned her bowler so that the brim hung low over her brow, and continued on.

Obviously anyone standing or visibly walking was not suspect. Helen paused behind the stands of fruit vendors, surreptitiously lifted tablecloths, and paused to look through windows at people who were lounging or otherwise immobile. She was halfway down the street when she felt the tiny hand in her pocket. She pinched the child's wrist between her thumb and forefinger, twisting the thief's arm so that he was forced forward where she could see him.

"Hardly a way to make a living, my boy," she said. His face was smudged with charcoal and dirt, and she realized that perhaps it was the boy's safest option for not going to bed hungry. She used her free hand to reach into her pocket for a handful of coins. "You're part of a gang, I'm sure. How many of you are there? Five? Answer me, boy!"

"There's six... sir."

Helen realized he had seen through her disguise, but he didn't seem to care. A woman could send him to the constables as easily as a man.

"Six, ay?" Helen counted the coins without removing her hand for the boy to see. "Very well. A farthing for each member of your little gang in exchange for information. Do we have a deal?" The boy's eyes widened at the offer and he nodded enthusiastically. "I'm looking for a person you haven't seen walk. They may be feigning an illness or--"

"Miss Kaliya!" He pointed across the street. "She lost her legs a long time ago. She uses a chair."

Helen followed his finger. "Have you seen her tonight?"

"Yes, miss. She was just at her stand. She's got dark skin and really long black hair. She's wearing... she's wearing a red gown, and she's sitting in her wheeled chair."

Helen took out the money and gave it to the boy. He stared at it as if he'd never seen so much money in one place and, to Helen's dismay, he most likely hadn't. He tried to run before she could change her mind, but Helen snatched the collar of his ratty coat. He struggled and fought, but he didn't try to hit her.

"Share it with your people. Do you know the Magnus estate?"

"The Sanctuary? Sure. It's a myth."

Helen smiled and shook her head. "No myth. A network of informants on the street could be extremely valuable to us. Do you understand me?" The boy nodded. "Keep your eyes open and there will be a lot more meals in your future. Now go, run along." She swatted his shoulder and the boy hurried off.

She let him go and crossed the street to search for Kaliya. The woman the boy described was seated at a table covered by a bright red awning, her hands folded amidst the trinkets she was offering for sale. They seemed handmade, carved wooden gewgaws in the shape of people and animals. Her wheelchair was wooden and sturdy, with a tall back that extended above her head and curled back to make a horizontal handle so she could be pushed. Her eyes were almond-shaped and bright green, despite the darkness of her skin, and her nails were long and dangerous.

"A gift for your woman?" Kaliya said when she saw Helen looking her way. She picked up something that may have been intended as a fish. "A trinket to show your affection?"

"I'm afraid I haven't the time for shopping." She struggled to mimic Nigel's timbre as she felt his would be the easiest to mimic. "There's been a murder, and I fear the culprit has taken refuge in this crowd."

Kaliya reacted so dramatically that, for a moment, Helen entertained the possibility that she was wrong. She put down the carving and looked around.

"A murder? Where?"

"On a side street, but my fellows and I have chased the fiend here. Perhaps you saw something that can be of assistance. The smallest thing could help." She faced Kaliya fully. "We have reason to believe the killer moved in an unconventional manner. Almost... slithering."

Kaliya hissed. She had two long, slender fangs that were dripping venom. Helen backed up a step and Kaliya flipped her own table, the items that littered its surface flying through the air like projectiles. Her upper body rose from the wheelchair like she was floating, and she rocked her hips forward. Her slender serpentine lower body lifted the chair and smashed it on the stones of the street.

James was drawn to the commotion and appeared with a revolver drawn. Helen pushed up the sleeve of her jacket and removed the dagger from the sheath on her wrist. Kaliya dropped and punched Helen. She fell back, her bowler knocked from her head and her hair falling in a wide wave of curls. The crowd was in full retreat, scrambling and shouting for the police. James fired at the nagaina but his shot went wide when someone slammed into him and knocked him against the building.

Kaliya swooped down and grabbed the lapel of Helen's blazer, lifting her so that the soles of her shoes barely touched the ground. Helen gripped the woman's deceptively strong forearm and tried to free herself. Kaliya stared into Helen's eyes and bared her fangs again.

"Leave us be, human, or you will be extraordinarily sorry." She tossed Helen toward James, who did what he could to cushion her fall. She was disoriented, but she waved off his concern and started running even before she had regained her bearings. Kaliya was heading east, swinging from side to side to destroy other vendor stations to deter anyone from giving chase. Helen leapt over the destruction and those who had been left in the wake of Kaliya's retreat. The gap between her and the nagaina's tail grew larger with each passing second.

Helen's hair was loose, her hat and glasses long gone, but she didn't care about losing her anonymity. She just had to catch the snake before it went somewhere she couldn't follow.

Kaliya suddenly veered into a tight alley and Helen nearly fell over trying to follow. James grabbed her shoulders to help her up and together they pursued Kaliya. Helen heard a crash of broken wood ahead of them and she saw the tip of Kaliya's tail disappearing into a narrow window that looked into a basement.

Helen dropped to her knees and bent down to look inside. Kaliya was halfway across the floor and twisted to see if they were following.

"Stop where you are!"

She smiled, revealing her fangs, and crashed through another wooden barrier. Helen examined the width of the window and knew she could fit through it, but the fall to the cellar floor would most likely leave her with a broken leg. She slapped the wooden sill and twisted to look at James. "Are you all right?"

"She didn't touch _me_."

"I'll be fine." She looked through the window again. "We have to go after her."

"Are you volunteering to make that leap?"

"Not me. We're going to require the help of our friends."

James exhaled and nodded. "It would appear the Five will have their trial by fire at last." He gestured through the window. "But we'll have the devil's time trying to find her. She could go anywhere from here."

"Not anywhere." Helen rocked back on her heels, resting an arm across her knees. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, sure she was spreading dirt and other smut through her sweat but too tired to care. "When one is being pursued, there's only one reason to go down."

James groaned. "She went below. The city under the city. Helen, you can't possibly be thinking of going down there."

"No... at least not alone." She stood up and gathered her hair to keep it out of her face. "Come with me. We need to recruit our friends to a potential suicide mission."

James sighed and followed her from the alley. "I honestly can't take you anywhere."


	10. Goblin Market

Helen and James managed to track down their three companions and they gathered in the library. Helen explained the situation, the nagaina making her escape underground and her plan to give chase. Nigel scoffed at the idea, but John and Nikola seemed intrigued.

"You are absolutely under no obligation to join us, but I believe that the five of us working in concert could achieve so many great things. The time has come for us to put our abilities to use. This is what we've been planning for since we all came together so long ago. For our plan to work, we'll need to approach the nagaina in a way she won't be expecting. Odds are there will be a trap waiting for us if we follow her through the basement entrance."

"So what do you suggest?"

Helen glanced at James. "There are ways into the sewer system blocked by the Thames. Low tide is in forty-three minutes, and we can get in through there."

John laughed. "With the mudlarks and toshers? Imagine, Helen Magnus consorting with scavengers and thieves."

Helen feigned nonchalance. "With you and Nikola leading the way, I doubt anyone would accost us. Or if they did, I'm sure you could fend off a few of the poor souls. As I've said, low tide is approaching and we still need time to prepare for the assault. If you're not willing to help it won't be held against you. But if you're up for it, we haven't the time to waste in debate."

Nikola smiled and stood, holding his hands out to the other men. "What are we waiting for? I'm game. I've been itching for the chance to put my strength to good use."

John dipped his chin toward Helen. "Where you lead, my love. As always."

Nigel looked at the others and rolled his eyes. "In for a penny, right? Weren't for you, I'd still be a teaboy at Oxford."

"Instead of a teaboy in London," Nikola chided. "How far you've come, Nigel."

"Gentlemen." Helen kept her voice light. "Time is wasting. Dress appropriately, we may end up getting a bit... soiled."

They left to their rooms, but John caught Helen's arm and prevented her from following. Helen smiled up at him, and he waited until they were alone before he spoke. "You and James seemed to have had quite the adventure this evening. He mentioned you were attacked. Are you injured?"

"I'm fine, really. Just some bumps and bruises."

"Perhaps you should remain home and allow us to sort out the nagaina business."

Helen furrowed her brow. "Why on earth would I do that? Our philosophy has always been that I am a member of the group rather than your leader. I wouldn't dream of sending you into a dangerous situation if I wasn't willing to go myself." She looked down at John's hand, which was still clutching her upper arm. "I should go and prepare."

John tightened his grip. "And how many evenings with James have you spent that didn't end in a fight, hmm? Would we have heard about your evening stroll if you did not require our assistance?"

She looked down at his fingers clutching her arm for a long moment before she met his eye again. "What are you implying, John? It's you I love. And we... James and I... and you..." She resented him for making her say it out loud and in this context. "I love you both, as I know you love him. But my heart belongs to you. Now let go of my arm. You're hurting me."

He let go immediately and looked down as if he could diagnose her bruises through the sleeve. Helen covered the spot with her other hand but didn't give him the pleasure of massaging away the ache. She was furious enough to tell him to stay home, but his abilities may prove necessary before the night was over.

"I'm sorry, Helen. I've been feeling... not myself lately." He managed a wan smile and gently cupped her cheek with his palm. She could see the kind barrister who had so long ago helped her in her quest and she leaned into his caress. John kissed her eyebrow. "Thank you for being patient with me, my darling."

"Of course." She forced herself to sound casual when she felt anything but. "We should prepare. The others will be wondering where we are."

He nodded and let her lead him out of the library. When they separated so Helen could go to her own room, she looked back as he closed the door to the room he shared with Nikola. It was no wonder he was acting so peculiar. He still maintained an office at the Inner Temple, and he was attempting to maintain a presence at both the Sanctuary and at Oxford. She knew he was also feeling strain from overuse of his teleportation and the illness that now seemed to accompany every few trips.

It was a matter for another night. She couldn't allow herself to become distracted by emotional problems when hunting for a deadly creature in an even deadlier environment. Regardless, she touched her arm where he had grabbed her and pondered the changes in him since their first meeting at the Bodleian.

#

The men were dressed almost identically, choosing heavy canvas trousers and long coats. The material was thick enough to protect them from any accidental stabbings by the refuse from the sunken city they were sure to encounter. Nigel and John wore gloves, and James wore a bowler hat pulled down to the tops of his ears. Helen dressed in men's trousers and a man's shirt, covering it all with a cloak. Her hair was braided and tucked into the voluminous hood. She also wore workman's gloves to protect her hands. They were all armed with pistols and blades, and Nikola's torso was encircled by an assortment of ropes should they prove necessary.

They did final checks in the foyer to make sure they were prepared, and then Helen nodded. "Good luck, gentlemen."

James opened the door and they strode out into the thick cloud of London fog. Helen led the way, with John at her right shoulder. Nikola and Nigel came next, with James bringing up the rear after closing the door behind them. The moon was full that night and illuminated the fog so that it became a stage curtain and Helen's group became silhouettes against its reverse. The fog became thicker near the water until the only thing capable of breaking through was the face of Big Ben that shone overhead like a manufactured moon. It chimed the hour and Helen silently urged her fellows onward; it was almost low tide.

The Five walked toward the Thames.

#

At the river's edge, Nikola got his hands on a bullseye-lantern from a tosher he found waiting for the tide to go down. The man raced off as if the devil was after him, and Helen thought it better to leave the details of Nikola's negotiation to the imagination. They carefully climbed down to the sewer access, with Nikola leading the way and soaking the cuffs of his trousers as he helped the others down and into the access tunnel. The smell was unmatched, and Helen found herself wishing she'd worn a scarf. Nikola seemed the most affected, his lips curling into a sneer and his eyes watering.

James took the lantern and moved to the front of the group. Small scampering shadows fled from the cone of light, squeaking to identify themselves as rats as they disappeared through impossibly small cracks and down pipes. James pointed. "Cheapside is to the north and east of here. That's where the nagaina will be found."

He led the way, followed by Nigel, with John and Nikola bringing up the rear. Helen allowed herself to be ushered into the middle of their group, protected not because she was a woman but because she was their de facto leader. She kept the tiny Derringer pistol in her hand, not eager to use it but certainly willing to if the need arose. Toshers, the pitiful outcasts who wandered the pipes and tunnels below London's streets in search of lost treasures, scurried out of their way and hid themselves from the glow of James' lantern. He shuttered the lamp when they neared sewer grates so pedestrians on the surface wouldn't be tempted to look down. When one tried to sneak up behind them, Nikola spun on the man and sent him away whimpering.

Portals on either side of their tunnel led off in tangents, forming an unending web. Helen hoped that James could truly find the place where the nagaina had gone underground and, if they did manage to find her, that they could make their way back out. Of course if they did become hopelessly lost, John could simply transport them back to the Sanctuary.

When Helen could no longer confidently identify what part of London proper they were underneath, James held up a hand and waited for the group to gather around him. They had reached a subterranean river shored by thick stone walls. The water was lethargic, a stream of oily black liquid burbling through the darkness. It was spanned by a wide bridge that looked to be constructed entirely from found objects. A man dressed in layers of clothing in various stages of decay was standing in front of the bridge to prevent anyone from crossing without permission. On the opposite side, crudely carved stone steps led up to a heavy wooden door.

James looked up at the roof that curved just a few feet above their heads. "The Cheapside market is just on the other side of that stream, presumably behind that door. If we mean to find our killer, we'll have to pass the bridge's guardian."

Nigel scratched his cheek. "Leave it to me." He began to unfasten his clothing. James quickly shed his jacket and held it up as a makeshift curtain to block Helen from being scandalized.

Helen smiled at his chivalry. "Nothing we haven't all seen before, James."

"Regardless," James said. "A bit of decorum never hurt. Incapacitate the guard, but don't injure him if you can at all avoid it."

Nigel went invisible before he was fully undressed, handing his clothes to Nikola as he removed them. Once he was naked Nigel said, "Thanks for holding those, teaboy," and they heard the soft pats of his bare feet as he moved toward the tunnel's exit. The bridge guard had seen their approach and was keeping an eye on them, unaware of the invisible man that was approaching him. He had a lantern by his feet and he opened the eye until the area around him was flooded with light. His hand went to some weapon that hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket.

The guard took a step forward and then suddenly spun to his right. He pulled out a wickedly sharp blade and swung through empty air. The back of his jacket was pulled, and he stumbled as he spun back the other direction. Even from a distance, Helen could see the confusion on his face. His shouts of frustration echoed off the bell-shaped curves of the tunnel.

"Show yourself, blaggard! Fight like a man!" He lunged, and his support leg was kicked out from underneath him. He went down hard on his back, and his shirt was pulled up over his face. His knife seemed to levitate away from him, clattering as it was tossed aside, and then his hands came together to be bound by the man's own belt.

Helen and John stepped out of the shadows and moved quickly to the ensnared man. "This doesn't have to end in bloodshed," John warned. "Know when you have been beaten and surrender."

The man stopped fighting, still breathing heavily as he tried to place the voice. "Who's there?" he asked, the Cockney dripping from both words. "What's your tricks?"

Helen spoke gently. "We merely require passage. We mean you no harm, but we will do whatever is necessary to gain access through that door."

"No one gets through that door 'less they're authorized."

John bent down and hauled the man to his feet. "Then authorize us."

Helen turned as James, Nikola, and a re-dressed Nigel joined them. The guard's shirt was pulled down so that he could see his captors, and he sneered. "Who the hell are you, anyway? With the Church?"

"We're with the Sanctuary," Helen said.

"No such place."

"I assure you, it is very real. We need to get through that door, with your help or without it."

The guard snorted. "Good luck getting through without my help." He lashed out suddenly and John cried out in surprise and pain. The guard lifted one leg and twisted with a dancer's grace to plant his opposite foot in John's solar plexus. He shoved, and John flew backward. James pushed Helen out of the way as he and Nikola stepped forward.

The guard swung, his bound fists connecting with James' chin with a meaty smack. James went down so quickly that Helen lost her breath, but she didn't have time to worry. The guard took notice of her, sneered lasciviously, and rocked off the heels of his feet. He seemed to fly at her, moving too quickly for her to react properly before he slammed into her.

They went down in a tangle of limbs, and he looped his tied hands over her head in a mockery of a lovers' embrace. His body was stone-heavy, pinning her down with their faces lined up. He pressed against her in a disgusting manner, and she thanked the gods of foresight that she was wearing thick trousers rather than skirts. She fought to push him off, but to no avail.

"You sound proper," he hissed. "This ain't a place for proper people."

"Then it's a good thing she brought friends." The guard's weight vanished, and Helen watched Nikola toss the man aside like so much garbage. The guard bounced when he hit the pavement, and Nikola followed. He was on top of the guard before the man could even get up onto his hands and knees. They struggled, and Nikola lifted the guard's arms by the belt that was holding them together.

"I can break them or tear them from your body. Dealer's choice."

"Nikola!" Helen barked. Nikola turned his ink-blot eyes toward her. He bared his fangs, but a slight shake of her head was enough to make him stop. "What's your name, guard?"

The guard fought for another moment, but then seemed to realize he was outclassed and answered her question. "Maddox."

"Very well, Maddox. My friends and I need to get through that door. Either you assist us, or I'll let my friends continue their assault on you. We want only to bring a murderer to justice. The killer is the only one who has anything to fear from any of us. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing."

"It's the word of Helen Magnus, friend." James was daubing blood from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. "Remember that name. I have the feeling it will soon carry much weight. She is a friend to Abnormals. You've seen how powerful her friends are. And you saw how she stopped a vampire from tearing you to pieces with nothing more than a glance."

Helen blushed but kept her gaze locked on Maddox. He seemed to be weighing his options and then finally nodded his head downward. "Pocket of my coat. There's a key what opens the lock, but the door's heavy..."

"Do you really think that will be a problem for us?" Nikola reached into Maddox's coat and withdrew an ornate metal key. "We'll give this back just as soon as we're done with it. Promise." He looked at Helen, who nodded. He let Maddox go, somewhat reluctantly, and started across the bridge.

Helen and James followed him but we brought up short by a sudden sound of a fist meeting flesh. They spun to see John's arm moving like a piston, slamming into Maddox's face a second time. Helen called his name, but John either ignored her or was too enraged to acknowledge it. After a series of full-strength punches, the guard's face was streaked with blood. John grabbed the collar of his coat and pressed Maddox against the wall.

"You dare hurt her? You... _dare_... touch... her...?"

Nigel grabbed one of John's arms, and James grabbed the other. They hauled him back, both of them getting elbowed or punched in the process, and John was tossed onto the ground. He started to get up, but Nikola stepped on his chest and pushed him back down. Helen's eyes were wide, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath after the barbaric display.

John was breathing heavily when his wandering gaze finally alighted on Helen. He managed a smile, but it did nothing to put her mind at ease. He spoke in a casual way, almost playfully. "He will think twice before coming after us now." His voice darkened. "He should not... have hurt you, Helen. Nikola, let me up."

Nikola looked to Helen for confirmation before he removed his foot. John got to his feet and brushed off his clothes, examining his knuckles with a disconnected, "Hm." He was so distracted that he didn't see Helen approach, only knew she was close when she slapped his face. His eyes widened and, for a terrifying moment, Helen was afraid she would be on the receiving end of a beating like the one he'd given to Maddox. She was afraid of the man she loved, and that terrified her even more.

But his gaze softened, and he was once again her John. Her sweet John, the man who held her in the night when it was cold, and who massaged her feet when she was weary. She touched his cheek and he smiled. It had been such a hard season on him; she decided that once they were home, they would take some time away. Just the two of them. She would leave James in charge of the Sanctuary, if he agreed.

"Ahem." Nikola gestured across the bridge. "Time is of the essence, is it not?"

"Of course. Yes." Helen gathered her wits and followed Nikola across the bridge. She looked back to where Maddox was cowering against the brick wall, glaring after her. She hoped it was clear to him that John's actions were not condoned, but the damage had all too literally already been done.

Nikola had opened the door wide enough that they could pass through. James was the first one on the other side and he slowly turned his head to take in the sight before them. "Well. It stands to reason that below Cheapside would be another marketplace. Didn't quite expect this, however..."

The borders of the wide chasm were brick and stone, the remnants of a part of the city that had long ago sunk below the surface. Ancient London was built on a morass of chalk, clay, gravel and mud. As it sank, new buildings were built atop the old until the weight of the present pushed the past ever deeper. The remnants of days long past now surrounded them, passed on to this hidden civilization. Helen heard the demonic rattle and roar of the Tube passing by, the passengers unaware of the world they were temporarily moving through.

Steps were cut into the stone, leading down from where they stood to a vast marketplace. A mélange of peculiar and unidentifiable smells lent the space an otherworldly air. It was completely unlike anyplace Helen had ever been before. Globe lanterns were hung from metal hooks in the stone, forming an artificial sunlight that cast a twilight glow upon every surface. Shadows shot out in every direction due to the multiple light sources.

Each shop had colorful awnings and the vendors hawked their wares with the same savvy as their above-ground counterparts. The only difference was these vendors were all unmistakably Abnormal. Some resembled animals, others had flat, featureless faces with small eyes and a tiny gap where the mouth should have been. There were giants and dwarves, things that flew and things that hung upside down from their stalls.

Helen had never seen such a variety of creatures outside of her father's home. And to see them here, on their own turf, was simply astonishing.

"The name of our prey is Kaliya." James was speaking quietly to the other men. They had described the nagaina to the others before they left. "She was selling small carvings, very detailed. Animals and small dolls. Keep your eyes open for anything that might indicate the presence of a naga."

The group split up, but James stayed by Helen's side. "Hope you don't mind me taking over there."

"No, it was necessary. I'm just... in awe. I knew Abnormals had their own societies, but to find something like this. And here, right under our feet!"

"People have long told stories about creatures which make their homes in the vast catacombs beneath London. Looks like there's some basis in their tales." He turned to face Helen. "Are you certain you are all right? John--"

"John has been under remarkable strain of late. We've no idea how his physiology reacts to the teleportation, not really. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt until we have more information."

James nodded. "And if you weren't sharing his bed?"

Helen's expression darkened. "Honestly, James. How can you ask that? I have treated John no differently than the rest of you. Have we not both looked the other way when we hear reports of a bank robbed by a seemingly invisible thief? Do you truly believe that every drop of Nikola's sustenance comes from the animal blood we keep in stock?"

"I believe that you sometimes see monsters in the place of people who are very dear to you. And I fear that blindness will one day be your downfall." He wrapped his hands around one of hers to squeeze the fingers. "Keep your eyes open, Helen. That is all that I ask."

Helen took her hand from him. "And all I ask is that you tend to your own business, Dr. Watson. We have a nagaina to find. Excuse me." She brushed past him and went down one aisle at random. When she looked back, James was gone.

#

None of the vendors seemed to question the Five's presence. Within the safety of the marketplace, the residents assumed that anyone who made it past Maddox belonged there. Helen was tempted from all sides, to buy a shawl or scarf or an elixir certain to cure all sundry aches and pains. Sometimes she browsed and would casually ask about carved wood figurines. Several people pointed her north, but she never found the shop they spoke of.

It was late, and she was growing weary, when she spotted Nikola through the crowd. He made his way to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder to urge her into following him. "Kaliya has closed shop, effective earlier this evening. She returned in a rush, settled her debts and collected money that was owed to her. One of her debtors still owes her one hundred pounds and he was supposed to deliver it tonight."

"Do you know where?"

Nikola smiled.

"Oh, you're brilliant. The others?"

"En route. I sent James to find Nigel, and John is already waiting. We have to hurry. The man I spoke to said that Kaliya seemed to be in a big enough hurry that she may have decided to leave without his money. In fact, I think he was delaying in the hopes she would do just that."

Helen shook her head. "Let's hope she needs the money more than she needs the distance."

They met up with Nigel and James near the edge of the marketplace, and moved in formation toward a brick wall that towered up toward the shadowy sky of the underworld. There was a narrow gap in the wall, reachable by wooden stairs secured to the stone by metal brackets, and John was standing at the opening.

"We haven't much time," he warned as they approached. He came down to offer Helen a hand, and she was grateful when she saw how unstable the stairs were.

"People climb these every day?"

"This part of their town was not designed with bipedal movement in mind," James said. "Look at the surface of the streets, the concave shape of the walkways. This is most definitely where we will find our nagaina."

The gap between the two buildings was so narrow that they had to move in a single-file line. To either side were recessed doorways that led into what had to be extremely cramped living spaces. All of the windows she saw were heavily curtained. Some were lit from within by the flickering flame of a gaslight, but the majority of the homes were dark.

John approached a dark home at random and knocked. When there was no answer, he forced the lock and stepped inside. He looked around for a moment and then rejoined the rest of them.

Each door had a symbol nailed to the wood, and Nikola said, "We're looking for..." He made a motion in the air that looked like a glissando mark with two lines through the center.

Nigel had moved ahead of the group and whistled. "Here. Got it."

They gathered in front of the apartment and Helen, hoping that she looked different enough out of her male guise that Kaliya wouldn't recognize her, knocked. She heard the sound of silk sliding against cloth on the other side of the door and then the familiar voice of the wood-carver.

"Khukuri? Is that you with my money?"

"I'm afraid not," Helen said. "We only wish to talk with you."

Kaliya muttered, and Helen heard bolts being slid into place on the other side of the door. Helen looked at John. "Do you have a good idea of what the interior will look like?"

"Good enough." He vanished, and Helen heard a shriek of surprise on the other side of the door. Nikola stepped around her and forced the door open, allowing the others to follow him inside.

The main room of the home was the size of a changing room, making their intrusion all the more uncomfortable. A wooden piece of furniture was shattered under the window. A wheelchair like the one she had used in Cheapside was parked against the far wall.

Kaliya was lying in the center of the floor with John on top of her, straddling the snake part of her body. John was pinning her shoulder to the ground with one hand, his teeth bared in a feral snarl as he withdrew a blade from his jacket. Her tail whipped, but she couldn't swing it at an angle to hit him. Nikola grabbed it with one hand, grimacing at the slime she was excreting as he pinned it against his side.

"I thought snakes were supposed to be _dry_."

"She's not a snake. She's a nagaina," Helen said.

John turned to see Helen and James behind him, and his expression softened somewhat. Helen nodded for him to back off, and he did so in an instant. Kaliya hissed at Helen, her fangs fully extended and dripping venom. Helen drew her gun but didn't aim it.

"My name is Helen Magnus. I'd like to speak to you about what happened tonight."

Kaliya hissed again. "You want to kill me. You want me to pay with my life for the loss of one of your people. Very well. Take your blood, human."

"I assure you that I want nothing of the sort. I simply wish to know what happened. If there was a reason for what you did, I promise to hear you out."

Helen glanced to her right as James stepped around Nikola without a word. He moved to a doorway that led to the back of the house and looked around before he faced Kaliya.

"Who else lives here with you?"

"No one." She pushed herself up on her arms, swinging her gaze between John and Helen. "You're here to kill me. Finish me."

James pointed at the wheelchair in the corner. "That conveyance is much too small for a woman of your... presence. And yet it appears to have been used very recently." He stepped closer and plucked a Playbill from the pocket on the side. He looked at the title and then showed it to Helen.

" _H.M.S. Pinafore_. The same show attended by the victim."

James nodded. "Which you could not have attended if you were, indeed, working your stand all night as the young man Helen spoke to said. So at the risk of repeating myself, who else lives here?"

The response came not from their captive, but from the back of the abode. "Stop."

Kaliya lunged forward when she heard the voice, raking her fingernails at John's face. He swatted her hands away and pushed her down, fighting her until the strength slipped from her. Helen moved in the direction of the voice. The other nagaina met her halfway, coming out of the room James had just checked.

The girl was without question Kaliya's daughter, due to her age and the similarities in their features. She was only seventeen or so, but due to her serpentine body rose to a height taller than John. She had been crying, and Kaliya's angry noises turned into sorrowful keening.

"Vinata, I told you I would take care of everything."

"By dying? That would solve nothing, mother!" She turned to Helen and rolled her shoulders back, offering her chest. "If you have come for blood, take mine."

"Nobody is killing anybody," Helen said. "Tell us what happened tonight. The truth!"

Vinata's eyes bubbled over with tears again. "Peter was a customer at our shop. He bought a carving every week, and soon he revealed he was only buying them to talk with me. He said I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He didn't care that I was... 'crippled,' or so he thought. He offered to take me on walks. He was kind to me. We fell in love." She smiled sadly. "I thought it would be... okay. I thought that if he accepted me in the chair, then he would accept me as I truly was.

"He called me a monster. A beast. He said I was an abomination. He tried to walk away and I only wanted to stop him. But he hit me. He said that he would not suffer a monster to live. I was frightened, so I... I stopped him." She covered her face with one hand and strove to contain the sobs threatening to rip through her.

Helen looked at James. Nikola had released Kaliya's tail, and John had stood. It was obvious she wasn't going to fight any more. Vinata finally gave in to her tears and began sobbing into her hand, so James stepped closer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Vinata, my name is Helen Magnus. My father created a place called the Sanctuary. Have you heard of it?"

The girl looked at her and frowned. "Yes. B-but..." She looked at Kaliya. "The police are looking for my mother. They won't stop until she's brought to justice and... and... we're not safe here. We won't be safe anywhere."

"You'll be safe with us. We'll protect you."

James tensed. "Helen, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"No, James, you may not." She kept her eyes on Vinata. "We can give you a place to live, a place where you'll be safe. You won't have to worry about the police finding you. You and your mother were already planning to flee. Let me give you a place to go." She looked at John. "Do you feel up to taking them to the Sanctuary?"

"If you're certain," John said.

"I am. Vinata, gather your things. You'll be leaving a bit earlier than you anticipated. Kaliya, if you wish, one of my people can stay here and collect the money you're owed from... Khukuri, was it?"

"Yessss." She pressed her lips together, obviously self-conscious about the hiss. "Why would you do this for us?"

"My home is called the Sanctuary, Kaliya. Do you really have to ask?"

The nagaina gathered their belongings and, once Helen had explained what would happen, John put a hand on their shoulders and vanished from the room. Once they were alone, James advanced on Helen.

"Are you mad? Lestrade will string you up by your thumbs if he finds out what you've done."

"And what would he do if we turned in his murderer?" She raised an eyebrow. "She acted in self-defense, but do you believe Lestrade will listen to her story before he makes his decision? Do you believe she would get a fair hearing? Or do you think she will be labeled a monster and pilloried in Trafalgar Square? The girl needs help, James, not punishment. If you wish, I will be the one to lie to Lestrade."

"No, no. I'll take care of that. I can make it more believable than you ever could."

Helen allowed herself a small grin. "Cheeky bugger."

Nigel was still standing in the doorway of the house. "What now?"

Helen sighed and dug in James' pocket for his watch. "Now we wait to see if Khukuri brings the money he owes. And with John taking care of our new guests at the Sanctuary, I suppose after that we can only hope and pray James remembers the way back to the surface."


	11. Feet of Clay

Years ago when she was first brought to her father's secret underground labyrinth, it had seemed immense. Gaslight lanterns were hung every few steps, and he had paused to light them as he passed. The light expanded to fill the space, but it only stretched so far before darkness overwhelmed it again. It seemed as if the more she saw of the main tunnel, the more tunnels branched off into secret depths. She couldn't imagine how he managed to remember where anything or anyone was.

The cells were so-named in the monastic tradition, rather than any penitentiary definition. The majority of the doors didn't even have locks. They were set into brick or stone facades, and Helen peered into the few open doors they passed to see the people she had unknowingly shared her home with all these many years. One man, with an owl-like crest and an outfit that implied wings tucked behind his back greeted her with, "It's very lovely to finally meet the lady of the house."

His gentlemanly greeting put her at ease, and she quickly became comfortable in the underground habitats. So much so that years later, when she escorted Kaliya and Vinata to their new homes, so did so with a certainty to what areas were sparsely inhabited so they could have their privacy. She went directly to a large cell, connected to its neighbor by way of a wide corridor at the rear of the great rooms, and allowed them to inspect it.

Kaliya returned to her after a brief examination and nodded. "It will be wonderful."

"I'm glad you approve. If you wish, someone can give you the grand tour later. You don't have many neighbors, but you'll find it's quite a community down here." She smiled, but then assumed a serious tone. "You may leave whenever you wish. This is not a prison or a ward. That said, you are more than welcome to stay until you feel it's safe to leave. If there's someplace else you would rather go, we'll do everything we can to facilitate transport. Until then..."

Kaliya touched Helen's arm to keep her from leaving. "Thank you. For everything you've done, despite how we met."

"You were protecting your daughter. Any parent would have done the same." She looked past Kaliya and smiled. "Go, be with her.

Kaliya nodded and squeezed Helen's arm. Helen waved goodbye to Vinata and returned to the ground floor of her home. Once upstairs, she again smelled the rank sewer stench rising from her skin and clothes and plugged her nose. She stripped the ruined outfit from her body, burying the rags at the bottom of a laundry bag and cinching the top tight. She was grateful she hadn't worn anything she actually liked; if a few washes didn't take care of the odor she could simply burn the lot of it.

She ran a bath for herself in the claw-footed tub, adding fragrances to the water in the hopes it would make her more presentable. She had a handful of bath bombs created by James, results of a frivolous experiment that had gone nowhere. The only practical application of the bombs was to create a foam bath of effervescent bubbles. He had given them to Helen as a birthday gift, and she treasured them. After the day she'd just finished, she was willing to sacrifice one of them for her own peace of mind.

Once the bath was ready she sank under the surface of the bubbles and sighed blissfully. James could claim all he wanted that the bubble bath had no practical purpose, but she would disagree with him until the day she died... whenever that happened to be.

The water had cooled somewhat when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She realized she had been close to dozing and pushed herself up, letting the bubbles cover her chest as she craned her neck and called out, "I'm in the bath."

"Is that an invitation to enter, or a request to come back later?"

Helen smiled. "For you, James, the former."

He entered and crossed her bedroom, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He smiled when he saw she was using the bubbles. "You certainly look relaxed."

She lifted her foot out of the water and let the bubbles trickle over her ankle and down her calf. "Quite. Although I assume you didn't come find me just to play the voyeur."

"No. That was just a happy accident which makes my true reason for coming... vague and unclear. But give me a moment to gather my wits." Helen chuckled and gathered the bubbles to her chest as James approached. He sat on the small basket next to the tub that held towels and other various toiletries. Helen leaned forward and James applied a washcloth to the back of her neck, running it across her shoulders and down the curve of her spine.

Helen brought her knees up like islands in the sea of white foam, crossing her arms over them as a pillow for her cheek. She purred contentedly at James' attentions. "If this is how you think, feel free to let your mind wander."

"I actually wanted to make sure you were okay. You were silent on our return to the surface, and you quickly excused yourself as soon as we were back here. Nikola is sharing a lovely bottle of chardonnay. Certainly you don't want to miss such uncharacteristic charity."

Helen smiled. "I was simply... very aware of my uselessness this evening."

James' hand stilled on her back. "What in the world could you mean?"

She shook her head. "I'm not feeling morose or piteous. But your ingenuity led us to our quarry. Nikola's strength and Nigel's invisibility allowed us access. And John made the final step to capturing our prize. I was merely along for the ride."

James smiled. "Typical of you, Helen. You left out the most important part." He pressed the washcloth against her neck and squeezed, sending torrents of water down her spine. "We went underground in search of a murderess willing to kill us to protect her daughter. Your insight and compassion resulted in a peaceful conclusion for all involved. You may not have used the gift imbued by the Source blood, but you were not useless simply because your true abilities were inborn. In a way it makes you the most special of us all."

Helen twisted to look at him over her shoulder. She pushed herself up and the water and bubbles flooded away from her breasts. James attempted to turn away from her exhibitionism, but she cupped his cheek and forced him to look into her eyes. She wasn't sure if he leaned toward her, or if the opposite was true, but they met halfway in a tender and sweet kiss. James kept his lips firmly together, closing his eyes only so he wouldn't be tempted by the exposed pinkness of her breasts, and cleared his throat when Helen finally pulled away from him.

"Thank you, James."

He smiled shyly. "There is a reason we consider you our leader, Helen. We may have strength and savvy, but you give us heart. Without you... I fear we would become monsters."

Helen laughed. "So I'm your governess?"

James finally allowed himself to look fully at her breasts, covered by a thin sheen of bubbles and water. He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes again. "Like no governess I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Helen hunched her shoulders and lowered her head. James leaned forward and pressed his cheek to her temple in the nearest to a hug he was willing to attempt in their current positions.

"Enjoy your ablutions, Helen. Join us in the library when you feel ready."

"I will. Thank you, James."

He dipped his chin as he rose, using the tail of his jacket to surreptitiously cover the shape of his erection pressing into his trousers. Helen watched him go and settled against the curve of the tub again. She rested her feet on the opposite end of the tub and wiggled her toes. James had a point. With his intelligence, Nikola's strength, Nigel's advantages of invisibility, and John's remarkable ability to break down barriers, they could dominate. Without her, they would run amok.

If being headmistress to a group of powerful men was to be her lot in life, she was willing to take that role.

#

John came to her after the bath. She finished dressing and turned to find him standing silent and dark near the wardrobe. Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed one hand to her chest to calm herself before she spoke. "John. You startled me."

"That seems to be a theme lately." He stepped deeper into the room where the candlelight caught his features. "I wish to apologize for my behavior during our adventure in the underground. It was uncouth at best, inexcusably horrible at worst. The thought that I may have injured you is..."

"I'm fine, John." She hesitated, then unbuttoned the bodice of her dress. She shrugged and lowered one side, showing him her bare upper arm. There was no bruise where he had grabbed her, although a part of her wondered if it was evidence of her heightened healing. At any rate, she wanted to soothe the obvious pain she saw in her lover's eyes. They each took a step forward, moving into the light, and John touched Helen's arm where he had gripped it so brutally earlier.

She touched his cheek and he closed his eyes.

"You poor man. It's hurting you more than you've said, isn't it?"

"It's nothing I cannot handle." He took a deep breath and turned his head to kiss her palm.

Helen smiled, holding back her tears. "Well. Perhaps there are more useful ways to get out your rage. Your frustrations." John looked at her as she guided his hand to the front of her dress. His fingers curled around the fabric. He looked at her and she nodded. "You can tear it."

"I... don't..." He was staring at the way the material of her dress was pulled taut by his fingers. He took a tremulous breath and closed his eyes.

"You need release, John. Let me give you what you need. Let me help you to remain the man I fell in love with."

John took a deep breath. "If you knew... the things that pass through my mind when the rage takes over. You would run from me, Helen."

"You've seen what I keep in my basement, Mr. Druitt."

He pulled her to him and kissed her roughly, a shocking counter to how James had kissed her earlier. His tongue thrust eagerly into her mouth, and he tightened his grip on her clothing before he jerked his arm back. The bodice of her dress tore roughly and Helen gasped into his mouth, arching her back as his hand found her breast. He massaged it roughly, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger before he twisted it.

"Ah... John!"

He growled at her and pressed his lips roughly against her cheek. Helen hissed and struggled against him, suddenly frightened of his touch. He used his free hand to force her face toward him, forced her to kiss him, and Helen shoved him away. Her hand shot up and across his cheek, slapping him once more. She was horrified by the action and, from the look on his face, John was horrified by what he had done to deserve it.

She clutched the torn cloth to her chest, covering her nudity as John's face twisted from anger to confusion, finally settling on remorse and horror. He turned away from her and Helen's compassion forced her forward. She pressed against him from behind, her hands flat on his chest. He brought his hands up and touched her hands, stroking the fine bones with a gentle pressure. The man who had just tried forcing himself on her was a stranger; this was the man she loved. Helen kissed the back of his neck and he breathed roughly.

Finally, John brought her hands up to his face and lightly kissed the backs of her fingers. "I must return to Oxford. I... can't be here. I need to settle my mind."

A part of her wanted to fight. She wanted to guide him through the briars of this strange new world in which he seemed entangled. But another part of her knew that her presence would only confuse matters. He needed to find his way on his own. She released him, and he turned to face her. She touched his sideburns and ran her thumb over his bottom lip, and he kissed it lightly.

"You know where to find me, Montague John Druitt. Please don't be away for long."

She guided his face to hers for a kiss. He allowed her to kiss him, but vanished before she was ready. Her lips parted in surprise and she clutched the ruined front of her dress with both hands. The bedroom felt very empty after his disappearance, and Helen embraced herself against the sudden chill his departure had brought. She looked at the bed, wondering what would have happened if John hadn't stopped himself. Would he truly have hurt her? And now that the invitation was extended, what if one night he decided to take her up on it without warning?

She shivered again and went to the wardrobe to find a new gown before seeking out the company of her friends.

#

Helen was waiting in Nigel's room when he finally returned, sneaking into the Sanctuary like a thief in the night. The door creaked as it opened unbidden, and she heard soft footfalls on the hardwood floor. She waited until the wardrobe opened before she turned on the lamp. "Cover yourself and show yourself. In that order, if you please."

A robe drifted out of the depths and wrapped around the shape of a body before Nigel became visible again. He looked at her for a long moment, perhaps debating the wisdom of accusing her of invading his privacy before he dismissed it. Helen stood and approached him, not bothering to restrain her anger.

"So what was the haul tonight, Nigel? Few hundred quid? Enough to get you through the next week or so, I'm sure. And then, what, you find someplace else ripe for the picking."

Nigel shrugged. He seemed perturbed at being caught, but otherwise showed no shame. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I'm not like you others. John's a lawyer, Nikola can just patent something and make some coin, and James got the cops fillin' his pockets every time they're stumped. And let's face it, that's often enough he ain't got to worry about where his next meal's comin' from."

"Neither do you. You're welcome in my home for as long--"

"I don't need charity. I'm careful about what I take and from where. No one ever really misses it, and no one gets hurt."

Helen shook her head. "I won't abide law-breaking."

He laughed. "You're keepin' a killer down in the basement. You had James tell the bobbies that it was some dockworker who was already long-gone. Now you're gettin' on your high horse about me snatching a few coins?"

"Vinata acted in self-defense. You steal to enrich your own coin purse."

"We all do what we must. We was all given gifts we could use. The Source blood did its work right well, didn't it? You got the time to do your good works, Nikola can make things go sparky, and James... well, he just lit right up with knowledge. As for John..." He shrugged. "We all got the tools to make life right for ourselves. Why is it so wrong for me to take advantage of mine?"

"Because it's against the law."

He smirked. "I don't think we've worried too much about the law since we came to London, have we? The law doesn't cover us. We're in a gray area. Abnormals and the like... they ain't covered by ordinary laws. So sometimes the rules gotta be bent."

Helen tensed, worried at how close he was coming to the truth. "Be that as it may... I will not give refuge to a common criminal. Either you cease your larceny this instant, tonight. Or you find somewhere else to live."

Nigel breathed in sharply and looked around the room, his chin raised at a superior tilt. Finally he nodded. "All right. Your house, your rules, right? Give me a call if you need my help. Not gonna guarantee I'll say yes, though."

Helen was shocked. She hadn't expected him to take the latter option. She'd only wished to frighten him. "Nigel..."

"No hard feelings, Helen. You and I, we just come from different worlds. You don't know what it's like to worry about money 'cause you never had to care about it. None of you have. It's been an honor staying in your home so long, but I don't belong here. Never did. So I'll just be on my way." He winked at her and smiled. "This won't be the end for us. There will always be the Five. You can count on that."

Helen smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry, Nigel."

He nodded to her and went to the wardrobe. When Helen left, he was hauling a bag down from the shelf to start filling it with his things.

#

"It would be a waste."

Helen turned from the sunset, bracing one hand against the roof to keep her balance as she watched Nikola approach. "Wasting your immortality this way... to end your life early rather than joining me in eternity? And not to mention depriving future generations of your beauty."

"Cheeky." He was carrying two empty glasses with one hand, a wine bottle in the other. "Is one of those for me?"

"If you wish."

She nodded. She waited for him to join her on the edge of the roof before she faced the Thames again. It was sunset, and the city appeared to gleam like gold as it caught the last rays of the sun. Another day in her life finished, and who could say how many more she would live to see? To the southwest she could see the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. To the east the construction of the Tower Bridge. St. Paul's was over her left shoulder. She felt surrounded by the immensity of London, the history of it all.

She sipped the wine and closed her eyes in appreciation. Nikola might achieve renown for his intelligence or his inventions, but the man's true genius was with the vino. "Would you stay with me?"

He looked at her. "Pardon?"

"Here, at the Sanctuary. I know that Oxford was merely a diversion for you, and now we've been here for months... I presume you plan to move on soon. I want to know if you would be willing to stay here with me. Helping Abnormals, giving them a place where they can be safe--"

"I took a little tour downstairs. Not a lot of room for future guests."

"So we'll expand. We'll build more wings, we'll move the less... unique guests aboveground."

Nikola smiled. "You're serious, aren't you? Devoting your life, the countless years you've been given... to helping the downtrodden."

Helen nudged his arm. "You're one to talk. If you perfect wireless energy, exactly how much are you going to sell it for? Oh, _that's_ right, you would give it away."

Nikola smiled. "Fame is a much more attractive goal than fortune. With fame, you never have to pay for anything anyway."

"Ah." She looked at London, the home of her childhood and, perhaps, of her future. "The Source blood changed us, Nikola. And not just in the way you're thinking. Vampire, invisible man, the world's greatest detective. It made us more than mere mortals and, as such, more shall be required of us. We can't be content to let the world pass us by any longer. We have a duty to use our abilities for the greater good."

"Hm. Greater good." He said it with a decided air of distaste. Finally he shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. "Well, there's nothing better out there at the moment, so why not? I might as well stick around. At least until something else captures my interest. It could be fun. As long as there are no more excursions into the sewer. The stench still hasn't left my skin." He brought his wrist to his nose, sniffed, and recoiled.

Helen shook her head and grinned. "You smell fine, Nikola."

"Speak for yourself. You weren't cursed with my olfactory superiority."

Helen threw her head back and laughed. "Too true." She sipped the wine again. "Fortunately the stink hasn't affected your appreciation of the finer things. Delicious, Nikola. A superb choice."

He shrugged noncommittally. "I have my areas of expertise."

"Indeed you do. I'm sure they'll come in quite handy over the coming years."

"Years. Decades." He sighed. "We'll be positively sick of each other before too long."

"Oh, I'm positive. By the end of the century, no doubt, I'll be looking for a stake and cloves of garlic."

Nikola glared at her. "Been speaking with Bram, have you?"

She slipped her arm around his and leaned against him. "Just enjoy the sunset, Nikola. Tomorrow will come soon enough. And tomorrow, and tomorrow."

"Sounds dreadful."

"Quiet. Enjoy the moment."

"As you wish, Helen."

She tightened her grip on his arm and looked out over her shining city.


	12. Once More Unto the Breach

1888.  
With Élodie's help, Helen washed the curls out of her hair. They were much too complicated, and they were an enormous pain to constantly pin back and out of the way when she accompanied James on cases. She no longer disguised herself as a man for their investigations, choosing instead the far more comfortable hooded cloak that concealed her gender as effectively as any suit and cap. Often their cases resulted in ordinary conclusions but, from time to time, Helen and James found themselves traveling deep into the Abnormal civilization that existed alongside the everyday world.

John found his peace. He returned to London not a changed man, but a reformed one. Helen curled her hair again in honor of his return, and he spent that evening tangling it with his fingers as they resumed their physical relationship. He held her hand, he moved slowly, and Helen allowed herself to believe the dark spectre that had gripped him had finally passed.

He and Helen celebrated his recovery with a night of Shakespeare and a carriage ride through Piccadilly. He surprised her with a ring, and she surprised no one by accepting. They were officially engaged that evening, and Nikola toasted them with another bottle of his finest wine. Helen warned him that he would be called charitable if he wasn't careful.

Nigel occasionally joined them for a night or two at a time, but his presence in the Sanctuary was no longer a foregone conclusion. Likewise, Nikola often retreated into his lab whenever his frequent inspirations struck. Helen allowed him to use a room at the Sanctuary for his experiments on the condition that none of them explode or cause irreparable property damage. He made no firm promises, but Helen was assured he would make amends for anything he destroyed in the name of science.

Before long, Helen was left alone with James and John. A week after their engagement, James played the violin while Helen and John danced in the study. Their dance became more intimate, and James' music ceased as John pushed aside the collar of Helen's blouse to kiss his way down her neck. The violin was set aside, and James pressed against her from behind. His hands moved between their bodies and worked John's belt. Helen was pinned between them as John groped James, and James pushed his hand into John's trousers to feel his arousal.

Helen kissed whatever parts of them she could reach, ensnared by their crossed arms, holding on tightly as the two men masturbated each other against the curve of hips. James buried his face in her newly-straightened hair, which he often curled around his finger or idly stroked when they rode together in carriages. She often dragged her hair over John's chest, teasing his nipples and brushing it over his cock before taking him into her mouth.

James came first, staining her dress, and his breath was warm against her neck as he apologized. Helen pushed her hand alongside his, their fingers lacing together as they stroked John to his own orgasm. He grunted, arched his back, and came on their hands before kissing them each in turn.

They adjourned to Helen's bedroom, where Helen undressed her men and ordered them into her bed. Her tongue provided lubrication for them both, reigniting their arousal before she backed away. John pulled James to him and they kissed hungrily, gripping each other as Helen knelt at the foot of the bed and watched them. She brushed her thigh with the palm of one hand, trying to keep her breathing steady as she watched her betrothed press his cock against the erection of another man.

James finished first, so John turned to Helen for his orgasm. James watched as he slid easily into her, laying her down before he began rocking against her. He whispered in her ear as she came, depraved things that made her blush as he came inside of her. She clung to him, her fingers tight on his ass to keep him from withdrawing until she was good and ready. She tightened her muscles around his cock and bent down to kiss his chest as he twisted to kiss James.

The three of them ended up tangled together under Helen's blankets, with John and James in each other's arms and Helen pressing against John from behind.

She woke some time later, cold and alone on the far side of the mattress. She sat up and saw James on the other side of the bed with a John-shaped void between them. He was on his back, the blankets twisted low enough that she could see the base of his cock and the thick hair that trailed up to his chest. She slid into the spot John had vacated, found it still warm from his body, and pulled James to her.

He was still mostly asleep when she began stroking him, but she knew he was awake by the time she guided him into her. They fucked lazily, both of them half-asleep, and James cupped her breast as he came. She rocked her hips against his until she came as well, then kissed his eyebrows and guided his head to her chest. She stroked his hair and looked out the window.

John was out there somewhere, in the night. In the safety of her bed and her lover's arms, she could admit that her fiancé was Not Quite Okay. He pretended admirably, and he was now able to control his outbursts... to a point. She knew that he was up to something, that there was some dark purpose to his wanderings. But he seemed so much better. He seemed so calm and... God forgive her, she thought that whatever he was doing was worth it to have her lover back. She prayed she wouldn't one day come to regret her inaction.

The Five were all in attendance for Gregory's return from India. He confirmed the Source blood had been safely secured in a place so inaccessible that it was likely only John Druitt's teleportation powers could get them there. He told them that only the Five with their unique powers, working in concert, could get to it.

Helen allowed her father to rest and, the next morning, told him of her plan to expand the Sanctuary's charter. She envisioned a vast global network made up of separate houses. Sanctuaries in many countries where the teams could provide a local touch to their dealings with Abnormals wary of outsiders.

Gregory listened to her bid and eventually straightened in his seat. "It's going to take some time and a lot of hard work. Fortunately time is something you're certain to have in abundance. And as for hard work... you've never been afraid of that."

Her father became a godsend to her in the following months. She continued studying at Oxford whenever possible, but the work of the Sanctuary became her true passion. She oversaw the expansion of the habitat area using Abnormal workers who volunteered their time out of gratitude for the comfort offered by the Sanctuary.

It was winter again, and the wind was furious against the windowpane. The fire had almost died down, and Helen had made the decision that she would go to bed when it finally died out rather than stoking it further. She was in her office dealing with a shipment of gekkota eggs that was tied up at the docks when there was a knock at the open door. She looked up and smiled at the sight of James, whom she hadn't seen in weeks.

"Dr. Watson, I presume. I hardly recognize you with such a heavy beard."

He touched the thick hair on his cheek and shrugged. "It's cheaper than a scarf, and considerably warmer. Do you have a moment?"

"For you, I have hours." She rose and greeted him with a kiss on either cheek. He gripped her arms and looked at her, and she returned his examination. He wore a cap and a thick coat with the collar turned up to protect his throat from the wind. "You look remarkable, James."

"As do you. I feared trying to keep up with the Sanctuary would make you weary, but it's made you positively glow. You look radiant, Helen."

Helen's smile wavered and she moved one hand to her abdomen. She had told no one. But naturally James could tell. She tightened her other hand on his arm and was about to speak when she saw movement behind him. "We'll speak of it later, hm?"

He nodded and John appeared in the doorway. "Hello, Helen."

Helen had never before been so in love with someone who caused such fear in her heart. He spoke calmly, he smiled at all the right moments, but she could no longer deny there was something _wrong_ about him. She wanted to confide in the others, but how could she bring herself to turn on the man who would be her husband? How could she ask her friends to turn on the man who would... very soon...

She forced her hand away from her stomach and stepped away from James. "John. I didn't know you were back in London."

"I invited him back from Oxford. In fact..." He turned as Nikola and Nigel joined them in the room. Helen's discomfort at John's presence was overwhelmed by the sight of her long-errant friends, and she greeted them in turn.

Helen squeezed Nigel's hand, grateful that their dust-up about his illegal activities hadn't harmed their friendship. She turned to James and smiled knowingly.

"You've gathered the Five once more. It must be a particularly trying case."

"Extremely. If you're willing to be the one keeping us all in line once more."

She sighed wearily. "It seems to be my lot in life. We'll adjourn to the library for the details of the story. I shudder to think what horrors you have brought to my doorstep this time, James Watson. I'll join you in a moment."

The men left the room with James already expounding on a family of Spriggans that had emigrated from the Middle East and settled in quite nicely in London's Crouch End. The rest of his story faded as they moved father down the corridor.

Helen returned to her desk and closed her journal, returning the pen to its rest and replacing the stopper in the inkwell. She knelt in front of the fire to extinguish it, watching as the weak flames surrendered to their demise and the logs sparked with final bursts of bright red and fading yellow. The air around the hearth was still warm so she lingered until the final flames vanished.

Finally she stood and left the office to discover what fresh hell James was planning to lead them into.

She honestly couldn't wait.


	13. Time and the Gods

"We're nearly out of tea."

Helen turns at the sound of Nikola replacing the pot on the tea service. He steps around the couch and folds himself into the spot he's occupied for the past few hours as he and Helen reminisced. Amazing that there's a six decade gap in their relationship and yet they still have so much to share. Helen can't help but focus on those first few years, when everything was new, if not simple. Days when she could ignore a momentary lapse in John's resolve. Nights when she thought nothing of inviting two men into her bed for warmth, love, pleasure.

She sees Nikola watching her and looks away as if he can look into her soul. Perhaps he can. He certainly knows her much better than anyone else in this world. Her trials and tribulations, every bad decision and compromise that led her to this moment in time. She can play the mysterious _femme fatale_ with the others, even the Big Guy, but Nikola remembers the frightened girl at Oxford who wasn't even allowed to officially study.

Sometimes she hates how well he knows her. Other times she feels he's the only person whose presence can keep her sane.

"The sun will be up soon," he says casually.

Helen looks over her shoulder to confirm this in the window. The rain has stopped, and she can see the first traces of color at the far end of the sky. She runs her thumb over the smooth handle of her tea cup and looks at Nikola.

"Thank you for staying the night with me. And please, don't turn that into something sordid."

"I wouldn't dream of it. It was my pleasure." He regards his cup for a moment before he drains it. He presses his lips together and then seems to come to a decision. "It's not easy for me, either. Being... alone. Knowing that everyone I've known is long-dead."

"You hide it well."

He lifts a shoulder. "Well, I figure that as long as _you're_ around, it's not so hard to bear."

Helen is touched, but tries not to encourage him. She finishes her tea, savors the taste, and then places the cup and saucer carefully on the table. She turns to face him, one elbow on the back of the couch and the other in her lap with her fingers laced together. Nikola faces her and smiles. Lasciviously. Helen rolls her eyes and Nikola looks away.

"Perhaps we shouldn't have referred to the abilities the Source blood gave us as 'gifts,'" Helen says. "We've certainly paid a hefty price for them."

"Very true." Nikola looks at her. "Would you do it again?"

She lets the question hang. She looks into the fire, which is close to dying, and realizes she's unsure. Finally, she nods. Just once.

"Knowing the outcome wouldn't change who I am. I would never be able to leave the question unanswered."

"Hm." Nikola nods and she knows he agrees with her. She stands up and smoothes the shawl over her stomach as she regards the clock. "I'm expecting a call from Will at noon. I should probably get to bed now if I want any rest whatsoever."

Nikola stands and faces her. "I still have some energy left." She makes a face at him and Nikola smiles innocently. "I was thinking of the library. Must you always go for the lowest common denominator?"

She kisses his cheek, surprising him. "Good night, Nikola." Her voice is sincere. "Thank you very much for spending this time with me."

"Of course." He sounds sincere as well, which makes her love him a little bit. She touches his cheek before he steps away and rolls the tea service out of the room. Helen walks to the fireplace and snuffs the flame. She turns off the lamp, casting the room into the peculiar pre-dawn half light. Instead of going to bed, she walks to the window seat and folds her arms behind her back. She grips her right forearm with her left hand, and vice versa, and watches one more day as it dawns on her city.


End file.
